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BE* 


gWMM 


WORKS 

•Of   THE 

HIGHT  .REVEREND 

WILLIAM  WARBURTON,D.D, 

^ 
JLOliJ)  BISHOP   OF  GLOUCESTER. 

A  NEW  EDITION, 
IN  TWELVE  VOLUMES, 


TO    WHICH    13 

-A  DISCOURSE  BY  WAY  OF  GENERAL  PREFACE*, 

COVTAININO 

«.OME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE,  WRITINGS,  AND  CHARACTER 
OF  THE  AUTHOR; 

BY  RICHARD   HURD,  D.D, 

BISHOP  OF  WORCESTER,  ft    r  •  / 

X/V 

v\\ 

VOLUME  THE    ELEVENTH, 


f. rutted  by  ItSse  Hansard  $  Sons,  near  LwicoinVJwn  Fi^rf^, 

FOE  T.  CAD£LL  AND  W.  DA  VIES,  IN  TJ1E  STRANO. 

-1.21  1.. 


CONTENTS 

V  O  L.    XL 

CONTROVERSIAL  TRACTS 

PART    I. 


I.— A  VINDICATION  of  the  Author  of  the  Divine  Legat  iorf 
of  Moses,  fyc.from  the  Aspersions  of  the  Country  Clergy 
man's  Letter  in  the  Weekly  Miscellany  of  Feb.  24,  1737, 

pp.  i — 12 

II.— ACRITIC  ALAND  PHILOSOPHICAL  COMMENTARY 
on  Mr.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN  :  in  which  is  contained 
a  Vindication  of  the  said  Essay  from  the<  Misrepresent 
tafions  of  Mr.  de  Resnel,  the  French  Translator;  and 
of  Mr.  de  Crousaz,  the  Commentator  :  In  Four  Letters, 

pp.  13—146 

III.— REMARKS  on  a  Book,  entitled  "  Future  Reward* 
and  Punishments  believed  hy  the  Ancients,  particularly 
the  Philosophers;  wherein  some  Objections  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Wai-burton,  in  his  Divine  Legation  of  Moses, 
are  considered.  1742:"  With  a  POSTSCRIPT,  in  Answer 
to  some  Objections  of  Dr.  SYKES;  and  a  LETTER  to 
Bishop  SUALLBBOOK  PP<  347—220 


iy  CONTENTS  OF    ELEVENTH    VOLUME. 

IV.— REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL  OCCASIONAL 
REFLECTIONS; 

TART  I. 

IB  answer  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Middletcn,  Dr.  Pococke,  the 
Master  of  the  Charter-House,  Dr.  Richard  Grey,  and 
others;  Serving  to  explain  and  justify  divers  Passages 
in  "  the  Divine  Legation"  objected  to  by  those  learned 
Writers.  To  which  is  added,  A  General  Review  of  the 
Argument  of  tht  Divine  Legation,  as  far  as  is  yet  ad 
vanced  :  wherein  is  considered  the  Relation  the  several 
Parts  bear  io  each  other,  and  to  the  Whole.  Together 
with  an  APPENDIX,  in  Answer  to  a  iate  Pamphlet, 
entitled,  M  An  Examination  of  Mr.  W.'s  Second  Proposi 
tion"  *  pp.  221—342 

PART  IT. 

In  answer  to  the  Rev.  Drs,  Stebbmg  &,  Sykes :  Sej-ving  to 
explain  and  justify  the  two  Dissertations  in  a  thz  Divint 
Legation"  concerning  the  Coaimaad  to  Abraham  to  offer 
«p  his  Son,  aiid  the  Nature  of  the  Jewish  Theocracy; 
Olyected  to  by  those  learned  Writers  -  ,pp.  343 — 428 


A 

VINDICATION 

I 

OF    THE 

AUTHOR 

OF 

fHE  DIVINE  LEGATION  OF  MOSES,  %c. 

FROM 

THE  ASPERSIONS   OF  THE  COUNTRY   CLERGYMAN'S    LETTER 

IN    THE 

WEEKLY  MISCELLANY 
bf  FEB.  24,  1737. 


AFTER  having  twice  offered  my  Thoughts  to  the 
Public,  on  two  very  Important  Subjects,  and  had  the 
honour  to  be  favourably  heard,  it  must  needs  be  a  suffi 
cient  mortification  to  me  to  be  obliged  to  descend  to  so 
low  a  subject  as  myself.  That,  and  the  deference  due  to 
the  Public,  had  certainly  restrained  this  appeal  to  it,  had 
the  matter  terminated  there.  But  when  the  accusation 
intended  against  me  appeared  visibly  designed  to  render 
a  projected  defence  of  Revelation  suspected ;  which,  I 
will  presume  (and,  as  the  author  of  it,  the  Reader  will 
excuse  me  for  presuming)  may  be  of  some  small  service 
to  our  holy  faith,  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  vindicate  my 
self,  in  this  public  manner,  from  the  horrid  accusations 
of  a  letter-writer  in  the  Weekly  Miscellany  of  the  24th  of 
February  last.  Whether  this  was  the  true  motive  of  this 
Vindication  will  be  best  seen  by  the  temper  in  which  it 
is  written.  The  letter-writer  begins  with  me  in  this 
manner,  A  late  Writer,  the  Author  of  the  Divine  Le^ 
gallon  of  Moses,  8$c.  is  very  severe  upon  ALL  Clergy 
men  who  take  the  liberty  of  censuring  the  conduct  OF 
VOL.  XL  #  ANT 


VINDICATION  OF  THE  AUTHOR 

OF  THEIR  BRETHREN.  The  passage,  on  which 
this  accusation  is  founded,  is  in  p.  21*  of  the  Dedication 
— /  appeal  then  to  the  Public,  whether  my  severity  tails 
on  those  who  cemurc  the  conduct  of  any  of  their  brethren: 
or  on  those,  who  abuse  the  whole  bccly  of  the  Clergy, 
considered  as  an  Order  instituted  by  Christ,  and  establish 
ed  by  the  State. 

He  goes  on, — Tf  I  am  capable  of  understanding  the 
weaning  and  drift  of  his-  Rook,  he  had  reason  to  appre 
hend  it  might  draw  upon  h>m  the  censures  of  all  the 
Clergy  who  are  sincere  friends  to  Christianity — therefore 
it  wight  be  politic  to  obviate  the  force  of  such  animad 
versions  beforehand.  Had  I  been  conscious  of  deserving 
the  censure  of  any  honest  man,  1  had  done,  Hke  those 
who  delight  in  mischief;  1  had  wounded  in  the  dark. 
But  when  I  chose  to  write  without  a  name,  it  was  for 
v>ery  contrary  purposes.  When  I  presumed  to  publish 
(in  defence  of  the  Established  Clergy)  a  vindication  of  the 
Church  of  England,  under  the  title  of  The  Alliance  be 
tween  Church  and  State,  which  surely  might  deserve 
their  pardon,  lest  the  World  should  imagine  I  expected 
more,  I  put  it  out  without  my  name.  And  now  \\riting 
in  the  common  cause  of  Christianity,  I  have  publicly 
owned  it.  For  if  ever  the  suspicion  of  being  ashamed  of 
the  faith  of  Jesus  be  more  carefully  to  be  avoided  at  one 
time  than  at  another,  it  must  certainly  be  in  this,  when 
infidelity  is  become  so  reputable  as  to  be  esteemed  a  test 
of  superior  part*  and  discernment. 

He  proceeds, — 1  shall  add,  that  if  he  really  weans  to 
defend  Christianity,  he  hath  published  the  weakest  defence 
of  it  that  I  have  ever  read.  How  are  we  to  understand 
him  here?  Must  we  rectify  the  proposition  thus, — Ij t' the 
'Author  gives  this  volume  as  a  defence  of  Christianity, 
then  it  is  the  weakest? — The  consequence  will  then  in 
deed  be  true. — But  I  had  cut  off  all  pretence  for  begging 
the  premisses.  For  I  have  formally  and  expressly  said 
in  the  beginning,  and  repeated  it  towards  the  end,  that 
the  design  of  this  volume  |  was  only  preparatory  to  the 
defence  of  Revelation,  and  to  prove  the  use  of  Religion 


*  1st  Edit, 
f  Containing  Books  I.  II. 


m 


FROM  ASPERSIONS  OF  WEBSTER.        3 

in  general,  and  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  in  por» 
ticular  to  civil  society.  And  had  I  not  said  this,  the 
Book  itself  would  shew  that  it  is  no  more  a  defence  of 
Christianity  than  the  first  proposition  of  the  three  terms 
is  a  syllogism. 

But  if  the  letter- writer  means,  what  his  words  express — 
That  if  I  have  a  serious  purpose  of  defending  Christianity, 
this  volume  is  the  weakest  defence — his  premisses  will  be 
true  indeed,  but  then  they  will  have  no  relation  to  his 
conclusion.  For  it  does  not  follow  from  those  premisses, 
that  this  is  any  defence  at  all ;  any  more  than  that,  if  I 
had  a  serious  purpose  of  building  a  house,  the  foundation- 
stones  were  tiiat  house. 

The  deference  due  to  the  Public,  from  so  obscure  a 
writer  as  myself,  was  the  true  reason  why  this  first  part 
came  out  separately  j  the  Author  not  presuming  to  ob 
trude  a  voluminous  work  upon  it  till  he  had  some  assur 
ance  of  its  willingness  to  receive  it.  But  the  same  regard 
that  obliged  me  to  this  conduct,  would  not  suffer  me  to 
make  a  secret  of  the  medium  by  which  I  pretended  to 
establish  my  demonstration,  especially  as  it  had  the  for 
tune  to  be  generally  esteemed  a  paradox.  I  therefore 
gave  the  proof  inform  two  years  ago  in  the  Appendix  to 
The.  Alliance  between  Church  and  State.  There  it  is  to  be 
found  ;  and  had  the  letter-writer,  instead  of  indulging 
his  monstrous  suspicions  of  the  Author,  turned  himself  to 
making  objections  to  his  argument,  he  might  possibly 
have  then  as  much  served  truth  as  he  now  has  violated 
charity. 

He  goes  on, — He  is  a  warmer  advocate  for  Dr. , 

K- ho  denies  the  divine  inspiration  of  the  Scriptures,  than 
for  the  Scriptures  themselves.  How  warm  an  advocate 
I  am  for  him,  we  shall  see  by  and  by ;  how  true  an 
accuser  the  letter- writer  is  of  him,  we  shall  examine  at 

present.     Dr.  says*,  it  is  NECESSARY  to  believe  o> 

the  Scriptures  in  general  that  they  are  divinely  inspin 
and  that  all  which  he  denies  is,  that  the  Scriptures 
arc  of  absolute  and  universal  inspiration^.  He  shews 
that  Tillotson  and  Grotius  were  of  the  same  opinion, 

*  Remarks  on  a  Reply  to  the  Defence  of  a  Letter  to  Dr.  W.  p.  69. 
t  Ibid.  p.  70* 

B  2  whOj 


4         VINDICATION  OF  THE  AUTHOR 

who,  he  charitably  presumes,  were  Christians.  And 
as  he  tells  his  friends  and  acquaintance  the  same  he  tells 
the  Public,  the  letter-writer  must  excuse  me,  if  I  believe 
a  man  whose  candour,  sincerity,  benevolence,  and  chanty 
I  have  experienced,  before  him,  who  has  not  given  me 
the  pleasure  of  remarking  in  him  any  of  those  Christian 
qualities. 

But  I  would  not  have  the  letter-writer  infer,  that,  be 
cause  he  has  been  pleased  to  make  me  Dr.  -'s  advo 
cate,  I  am  to  be  responsible  for  his  opinions.  I  differ 
widely  from  him  in  the  matter  of  inspiration,  and  as 
widely  in  some  others.  But  we  can  differ  from  each 
other,  and  avow  and  maintain  our  difference  of  opinion, 
without  violation  of  common  -humanity,  friendship,  or 
Christian  charity.  I  will  give  the  letter- writer  another 
instance  of  difference  in  opinion  between  us,  from  this 
very  Book  he  so  much  condemns.  "The  writer  of  the 
Defence  of  the.  Letter  to  Dr.  JV.  p.  45,  says, — Is  the 
•notion  of  the  divine  origin  of  the  law  and  inspiration  of 
Moses  to  be  resolved  into  fiction,  or  fable,  or  political 
lying  ?  No,  far  be  it  from  me  to  think  or  say  so.  But 
this  perhaps  one  may  venture  to  say,  that  the  supposition 
<>f  some  degree  of  suck  fiction  may  possibly  be  found 
necessary  to  the  solving  the  difficulties  of  tlie  Mosaic 
Writings,  without  any  hurt  to  their  authority,  or  ad- 
>i':>ntage  to  injidelity.  I  am,  as  I  say,  of  a  different 
opinion.  The  writer  endeavours  to  support  his  by  several 
arguments ;  amongst  which  one  is,  the  professions  and 
example  of  the  ancient  sages  and  legislators.  Now,  in 
the  Second  Section  of  my  Third  Book  I  have  inquired 
into  the  principles  that  induced  the  ancient  sages  and 
legislators  to  deem  it  lawful  to  deceive  for  the  public 
good ;  in  the  discovery  of  which,  I  think,  I  have  made  it 
evident  that  those  reasons  or  principles  could  have  no 
place  amongst  the  founders  and  propagators  of  the  Jewish 
and  Christian  religions.  This  truth  (as  well  as  several 
others  interspersed  throughout  this  First  Volume,  and 
which  may  perhaps  give  offence  to  the  indiscreet  zeal  of 
the  letter-writer)  is  in  my  next  volume  *  applied  and  in- 
forced  to  the  overthrowing  that  opinion  that  some  degree 

*  Containing  Books  IV.  V.  VI. 


FROM  ASPERSIONS  OF  WEBSTER.  '      5 

offction  may  be  necessary,  &?c.  And  even  in  this?  I 
could  not  forbear,  in  the  most  conspicuous  place  of  my 
Book,  to  shew  the  use  of  it}  as  may  be  seen  by  these 
words  of  the  Contents,  B.  III.  S.  2. — The  principles, 
that  induced  the  ancient  sages  to  deem  it  laivful  to  de 
ceive  for  public  good  in  matters  of  religion,  are  explained 

AND  SHEWN  TO  BE  SUCH  AS  HAD  NO  PLACE!  IN  THE 
PROPAGATION  OR  GENIUS  OF  THE  JEWISH  AND  CHRIS 
TIAN  ItELIGlONS. 

But  I  arn  a  warm  advocate  for  Dr.  • .     In  what  ? 

I  have  called  him  a  very  formidable  adversary  to  the 
Free-Thinkers.  And  I  think  I  had  reason :  for  the 
arguments  he  hath  used  for  the  TRUTH  of  Christianity 
against  Tindal  have  never  yet  been  answered  by  them,  nor 
I  think  ever  can.  I  say  for  the  truth  of  Christianity;  for  his 
reasonings,  from  p.  59  to  64*,  relate  only  to  its  truth, 
and  can  be  understood  in  no  other  sense.  After  this,  to 
think  he  would  have  Christianity  supported  only  because 
it  is  useful,  is  such  a  way  of  interpreting  a  writer  as  my 
charity  will  never  suffer  me  to  follow. 

The  opinion  I  have  of  Dr.  — — 's  abilities,  and  of  the 
sincerity  of  his  professions,  were  the  true  reasons  of  that 
esteem  I  express  for  him  ;  being  desirous  of  allaying  all 
disgust,  if  any  hath  arisen  in  him,  from  the  treatment  of 
his  less  candid  adversaries  ;  and  of  engaging  him  to  a 
further  and  more  compleat  vindication  of  our  holy  faith, 
at  a  time  when  the  good  dispositions  of  the  meanest 
advocate  for  Revelation  should  not,  I  think>  in  pru 
dence  be  discouraged:  Nay,  was  I  so  unhappy  to 

think  of  Dr. as  the  letter-writer  is   disposed    to 

do,  I  should  yet  be  inclined  to  behave  myself  very 
differently  towards  him.  I  should  be  so  far  from 
estranging  him  further  from  the  faith  by  uncharitable 
anathemas,  that  I  should  do  all  I  could  to  court  and 
allure  him  to  Christianity,  by  thinking  well  of  ~  its  pro 
fessors.  Thus  much,  I  conceive,  Christian  charity 
would  requir^  and  how  far  Christian  policy  would  per 
suade,  let  the  learned  say,  who  know  what  ornament  his 
pen  would  be  to  the  Christian  faith,  and  his  acquaintance 
of  what  example  his  morals  to  Christian  practice. 
*  Letter  to  Dr.  W. 

B  3  But 


6         VINDICATION  OF  THE  AUTHOR 

But  the  letter-writer,  having  taken  it  into  his  head,  that 

Dr. *s  true  sentiments  are,  that  Christianity  can  only 

be  defended  as  useful  in  the  present  circumstances  of  lite, 
makes,  as  it  would  seem,  this  imagination  the  key  to  my 
real  sentiments  and  designs  in  defending  Revelation. 
Hence  those  strange  expressions — If  I  am  oc/v^jt  of 
understanding  the  meaning  and  drift  oj  hit*  took — he 
must  excuse  me,  if  I  suspect  his  faith  and  ccndenm  his 
booh — This  I  am  sure  of,  the  author  must  be  a  subtile 
enemy  to  Revelation,  or  a  very  indiscreet  friend — Jmu&t 

own  he  has  left  me  in  no  doubt.  Now  if  those  be  Dr. 's 

true  sentiments,  which  yet  I  no  more  believe  than  that 
Tindal  was  a  Christian  in  his  heart,  I  shall  not  scruple 
to  say  that  he  whom  1  called  one  of  the  most  formidable 
of  the  Free-thinkers  adversaries,  is  indeed  one  of  the 
weakest  and  most  contemptible.  But  if  they  be  mine, 
after  all  I  have  said  in  this  volume,  4  will  not  scruple  to 
say,  that  that  character  would  be  far  too  mild  for  me ; 
and  that  it  would  be  but  justice  to  esteem  me  the  most 
abandoned  writer  that  ever  appeared  in  any  cause. 

Let  us  now  take  this  key,  and  apply  it  to  what  I  have 
written. — And  it  will  indeed  thoroughly  serve  the  letter- 
writer's  declared  purpose  to  lessen  my  credit,  For  it  will 
make  the  whole  volume  a  heap  of  absurdities  and  contra 
dictions.  But  lay  aside  this  visionary  key,  end  let  me  be 
interpreted  by  those  common  rules  that  all  mankind  have 
ever  used  in  understanding  one  another,  and  then  it  \\ill 
be  seen  I  could  not  possibly  have  had  any  other  intention 
than  TO  PROVE  MOSES  TO  BE  A  TRUE  PROPHET  SENT 

IMMEDIATELY    AND     EXTRAORDINARILY    FROM     GOD. 

— I  pretend  to  do  it  from  Moses's  omission  of  the  doctrine 
of  a  future  state;  which  under  an  unequal  Providence,  is 
(as  I  have  shewn  in  this  Book,  that  being  the  only  end  of 
writing  it)  absolutely  necessary  to  society.  From  whence 
I  conclude  Moses  $  pretensions  were  true  :  who  assured 
the  Israelites  that  God  had  chosen  them  to  be  his  people, 
had  condescended  to  be  their  king,  and  «^ould  conse 
quently  govern  them  by  an  EQUAL,  that  is  an  EXTRAOR 
DINARY  PROVIDENCE;  which  conclusion  (that  appears 
almost  self-evident)  I  employ  my  second  volume  to  sup 
port,  illustrate,  and  free  from  objections, 

12  Hence 


FROM  ASPERSIONS  OF  WEBSTER.         i 

Hence  it  appears  on  what  account  I  so  much  insist  on 
the  usefulness  and  necessity  of  religion  in  general,  and 
the.  doctrine  of  a  future  state  in  particular  to  society. 
The  course  of  my  argument,  and  all  the  rules  of  logic, 
obliged  me  to  this  conduct:  and  indeed  I  thought  it  the 
peculiar  happiness  of  my  argument  that  they  did  so;  for 
I  suppose,  till  the  intidels  be  convinced  that  religion  is 
useful  to  civil  society,  they  will  never  be  brought  to  be 
lieve  it  true. 

I  now  haste  to  the  other  part  of  the  letter-writer's 
charge,  lest  he  should  be  tempted,  in  his  impatience,  to 
repeat  it ;  and  say  again,  that  /  am  a  warmer  advocate 

for  Dr. than  for  the  Scriptures.     The  Reader, 

who  has  never  seen  my  book,  will  naturally  conclude 
from  these  words,  that  either  I  had  undervalued  Scrip 
ture,  or  at  least  neglected  a  fair  opportunity  of  vindicat 
ing  it.  He  will  bti  surprised  to  be  told  that  the  latter 
part  of  the  charge  was  only  for  completing  the  antithesis. 
So  indeed  it  appears  to  me ;  but  the  Reader  shall  judge 
for  himself. 

There  are  but  two  places  in  this  volume,  in  which  I 
had  occasion  to  make  observations  on  the  Scripture ;  the 
one  is,  where  I  endeavour  to  shew  that  the  argument 
which  the  Commentators  use  to   prove  the  Pentateuch 
(against  Sphiosa  and  others)  to    be  written  by  Moses^ 
is  a  very  strong  and  solid  one.     The  other  is,  where 
I  say,   that  the  New  Testament  dees  not  contain  any 
regular  or  compleat  system  or   digest  of  moral  laics ; 
the  occasional  precepts  there  delivered,    how  excellent 
and  divine  soever,  arising  only  jrcm  conjunctures  and 
circumstances  that  were  the  subjects  of  those  preachings 
or  writings,  in  which  suck  precepts  are  found.     For  the 
rest,  for  a  general  knowledge  of  the  whole  body  of  moral 
duty,  the  great  pandect  of  the  law  of  nature  is  held  open 
by  it  to  be  searched  and  studied.    Finally,  says  the  Apostle 
Paul,  Whatsoever  things  are  true,  <§'c.  * 

I  suppose  then,  if  the  letter-writer  had  any  particular 
meaning,  this  was  the  place  that  was  to  justify  him  in 
saying  that  /  was  no  warm  advocate  for  the  Scriptures. 
But  does  the  New  Testament  contain  any  such  compleat 
or  regular  system  ?  will  the  letter-writer  say  so  ?  will  any 
one  besides  say  so  ?  How  weak  and  indiscreet  a  friend 

fi  4  «oeve* 


8         VINDICATION  OF  THE  AUTHOR 

soever  he  may  please  to  think  me  of  religion,  I  will  assure 
the_  Reader,  that  as  I  make  it  one  point  of  my  religion  to 
say  nothing  but  what  I  think  the  truth,  so  I  do  not  use  to 
throw  about  those  truths  at  random.  The  observation 
was  here  necessary  to  overthrow  the  most  pernicious 
doctrine  that  ever  infected  society.  If  it  was  true,  then, 
it  was  not  untimely  urged.  But  had  the  letter-writer  had 
a  little  patience,  he  would  have  seen  in  the  second  volume 
(as  that  will  be  the  case  of  many  other  truths  interspersed 
throughout  the  first)  that,  by  the  assistance  of  this  very 
truth,  I  overthrow  a  prevailing  notion,  which  I  suppose, 
He,  no  more  than  /,  will  think  very  orthodox,  namely, 
that  Christianity  is  ONLY  a  republication  of  the  Re 
ligion  of  Nature. 

.This,  I  can  assure  the  Reader,  is  the  case  of  all  other 
principles  occasionally  laid  down  in  this  first  volume, 
which  are  riot  only  here  used  to  prove  the  usefulness  and 
truth  of  religion  in  general,  but  are  in  the  next  volume 
applied  to  prove  the  truth  of  Revelation  in  particular. 
To  give  one  instance  at  present,  in  the  Sixth  Section  of 
the  Second  Book,  I  have  attempted  to  explain  the  nature 
of  Paganism,  as  distinguished  from  true  Revelation ; 
where  I  have  shewn,  that  though  they  abounded  in  pre 
tended  revelations,  they  were  utter  strangers  to  the  idea 
of  one  revelation's  being  founded  upon,  or  the  completion 
of  another.  This  principle  I  apply  and  inforce  in  the 
second  volume  against  the  fourth  chapter  of  Collinses 
Ground*  and  Reasons  of  the  Christian  Religion,  where 
Jie  la^s  it  down  for  one  of  his  fundamental  principles 
(against  all  antiquity  and  fact)  that  it  is  a  common  and 
necessary  method  jor  new  revelations  to  be  built  and 
grounded  on  precedent  revelations. 

The  letter-  writer  proceeds — Mr.  War  burton  modestly 
says,  they  [the  English  Clergy}  haye  undertaken  to  prove 
Christianity  without  understanding  it.  As  in  the  case 
before,  about  censuring  the  conduct  of  Clergymen,  the 
letter- writer  turned  what  I  said  in  general  of  the  body, 
particularly^  to  individuals ;  so  here,  by  a  strange  per 
versity,  he  turns  what  I  said  particularly  of  $ome  certain 
persons,  generally,  to  the  English  Clergy.  J\ly  words 
are  these :  Who^  in  this  long  Controversy  between  us 
atut  the  Deists,  hath  not  applied  to  certain  late  Advo-, 

cafes 

~ 


FROM  ASPERSIONS  OF  WEBSTER.         9 

cates  of  Revelation  what  was  formerly  said  of  Arnobius 
and  Lactantius,  that  they  undertook  the  defence  of 
Christianity  before  they  understood  it? 

But  have  none  but  Englishmen  wrote  of  late  in  de 
fence  of  Christianity  ?  Have  no  Englishmen  but  the 
English  Clergy  wrote  in  defence  of  it  ?  If  neither  of 
these  questions  can  "be  answered  in  the  negative,  I  would 
ask  a  third,  What  possessed  the  letter-writer  to  bear  wit- 
ncsb  against  me,  to  the'  world,  that  I  have  any  where  said 
that  the  English  Clergy  have  undertaken,  to  prove 
Christianity  without  understanding  it  ?  I  solemnly  de 
clare,  that  in  the  passage  above  quoted  I  meant  no 
English  Clergyman  whatsoever.  >So  far  from  that,  i 
expressly  sav.  in  the  Dedication,  that  the  Clergy  of 
the  established  Church  are  they  icho  have  been  princi 
pally  watchful  In  the  common  cause  cf  Christianity,  and 
'MOST  SUCCESSFUL  in  repelling  the  insults  of  its  enemies. 
I  must  appeal  then,  this  second  time,  to  the  Public  for 
justice. 

As  I  was  cold  in  defence  of  Scripture  in  general,  so 
my  next  charge  is,  that  I  have  undervalued  the  evidence 
arising  ji'om  miracles.  Would  the  Reader  know  how? — 
Hardly,  by  saying,  as  1  expressly  do,  that  men  have 
proved  our  religion  actually  divine  thereby.  But  this 
went  for  nothing,  because  1  said  in  the  same  place,  that 
the  external  evidence  (in  which  miracles  are  included)  is 
not  capable  of  strict  demonstration  ;  but  that  the  internal 
is.  Now  here  might  be  some  pretence  tor  saying  I  over* 
valued  internal  evidence :  But  by  what  kind  of  logic  it 
could  be  inferred  that,  therefore,  I  undervalued  miracles, 
I  know  not. 

The  letter- writer  next  turns  (as  it  would  seem)  from 
me  tp  those  who  deny  the  Divinity  of  Christ,  the  merits 
of  Jys  death,  the  obligation  and  effects  of  the  sacraments, 
and  the  doctrine  of  grace.  But  it  is  but  seeming.  He 
appears  willing  that  these  false  opinions  should  be  thought 
mine :  for  having  charged  me  with  horrid  crimes,  with 
out  shadow  of  proof  or  probability,  he  would  cover  the 
scandal  by  insinuating  me  guilty  of  heterodoxy ;  or  why 
else  did  he  lead  his  reader  to  the  very  door  of  calumny, 
by  artfully  joining  me,  as  undervaluing  miracles,  to  one 
qf  these,  who  he  says  denies  the  truth  of  one  of  them  ? 

But 


io       VINDICATION  OF  THE  AUTHOR 

But  the  letter-writer  should  have  considered,  if  this  was 
his  design,  that  in  this  very  book  I  affirm  more  than  once 
or  twice,  that  the  doctrine  of  redemption  is  the  foundation, 
and  of  the  very  essence  of  Christianity.  He  should 
have  known  that  nil  or  tno-.t  of  tho^e  true  Christian  doc 
trines  mentioned  above  are  contained  in  the  -doctrine  of 
redemption* 

There  are.  and  those  esteemed  sincere  Christians  too, 
who  would  have  taken  the  names  of  infidel  and  heretic 
for  favours  at  the  hand  of  the  tetter-writer.  But  1  am  of 
a  different  humour.  These  titles  have  no  charms  for  me. 
I  have  lived  some  time  in  the  world ;  and,  blessed  be 
GOD,  without  giving  or  taking  offence.  This  time  has 
been  spent  in  my  parish  church  (for  I  am  a  country 
clergyman,  and  reside  constantly  on  my  Cure)  in  the 
service  of  my  neighbour,  in  my  study,  and  in  the  othceg 
of  filial  piety — 

"  With  lenient  Arts  t"  extend  a  Mother's  breath, 
;  Make  Languor  smile,  and  smooth  the  bed  of  death, 
"  Explore  the  thought,  explain  the  asking  eye, 
"  And  keep  awhile  one  Parent  from  the  sky/' 

Excess  of  zeal  in  such  as  the  letter^writer,  and  defect  of 
religion  in  others  of  better  breeding,  so  efface  these  feel 
ings  of  nature,  that  I  could  hardly  have  known  how  to 
have  told  them,  had  I  not  both  the  example,  and  the  fine 
words  too,  of  one  of  the  politest  men  of  tiie  age  to  keep 
me  in  countenance.  The  time  spent  in  my  study  has 
been  employed  in  confirming  my  own  faith  against  the 
erroneous  opinions  the  letter-writer  has  raked  together, 
and  then,  in  planning  a  Work  to  confirm  my  brethren, 
All  the  reward  I  ever  had,  or  ever  expect  to  have  here, 
is  the  testimony  of  a  good  conscience  within  doors,  and  a 
good  jiarne  without.  The  first  no  man  can  take  from  me; 
the  other,  this  letter- writer,  in  the  most  unchristian  man- 
tier,  has  attempted  to  invade. 

• — But  1  heartily  forgive  him :  and  instead  of  putting 
uncharitable  constructions  on  his  secret  intentions,  will 
believe,  though  I  know  no  more  of  him  than  by  his  let 
ter,  that  he  is  sincere,  and  only  unhappily  agitated  by  a 
furious  zeal  for  the  cause  of  GOD  and  Religion;  instead 
of  thinking  he  ought  to  be  hindered  from  any  farther  ad 
vancement 


FROM  ASPERSIONS  OF  WEBSTER.       11 

wancement  in  the  Church.  If  the  want  of  that  be  the 
cause  of  his  spleen  and  virulency,  I  heartily  wish  it  may 
be  speedily  removed  :  nay,  that  the  letter  he  has  wrote 
against  me  may  contribute  towards  it.  Instead  of  using 
any  warm  endeavours  to  lessen  his  credit,  which  he  pro 
fesses  in  so  many  words  to  be  his  purpose  against  me,  I 
wish  him  ail  increase  of  reputation  and  honour :  and  in 
stead  of  insulting  him  with  the  words  he  seems  to  apply 
to  me — I  pray  /or  the  forgiveness  and  conversion  oj  all 
bad  men,  I  will  assure  him,  that  I  pray  for  him  as  a  bro 
ther. 

I  have  only  one  word  more  to  add  :  I  have  presumed 
to  appeal  to  the  Public,  in  a  matter  indeed  that  little  con 
cerns  it,  yet  perhaps  of  some  moment  in  the  consequence 
ami  example.  But  whatever  necessity  I  now  found  my 
self  under  of  not  submitting  to  so  talse  a  charge,  the 
Public  need  not  be  under  apprehensions  that  I  shall  ever 
give  them  a  second  trouble  of  the  same  kind.  It  must  be 
some  strange  provocation  indeed  that  can  make  me  repeat 
it.  For  if  I  can  forgive  injuries  of  this  kind,  it  is  sure 
no  hard  task  to  despise  them-  In  a  word,  I  have  made 
my  defence  against  these  calumnies  now  once  for  all ; 
and  my  enemies  must  pardon  me,  if  I  decline  to  be 
drawn  in,  into  a  controversy  of  this  nature ;  or  to  be 
drawn  off  from  the  subject  I  have  commenced  in  defence 
of  Revelation.  And,  by  the  grace  of  GOD,  no  un 
christian  treatment  shall  ever  make  me  languid  or  remiss 
in  vindicating  the  truth  of  the  Christian  cause.  Whether 
I  am  a  weak  defender  of  Christianity  must  be  submitted 
to  the  judgment  of  the  Public.  But  I  am  persuaded  that 
that  Public  will  suspend  all  severity  of  judgment  till  they 
see  the  whole  performance  :  and  then,  I  hope,  those  who 
now  think  I  have  advanced  a  paradox  that  cannot  be  sup 
ported,  will  be  of  another  opinion.  But  if  it  should  not 
be  my  good  fortune  to  make  out  my  point  to  their  satis 
faction,  yet  I  should  hope  they  will  pass  a  more  equitable 
construction  on  the  attempt  than  the  letter-writer  has 
thought  fit  to  do  ;  and  make  all  favourable  allowances  for 
the  newness  and  difficulty  of  the  subject,  and  the  many 
incidental  points  touched  upon,  which  will,  I  hope,  be 
thought  by  all  persons  of  equity,  candor,  and  good 
learning,  to  have  their  use.  In  the  mean  lime,  1  can  say 

with 


12    VINDICATION  OF  THE  AUTHOR,  Sec. 

with  great  truth,  and,  I  hope  I  may  do  it  with  modesty, 
that  what  I  offer  to  the  Public  concerning  The  Divine 
Legation  of  Moses  is  not  a  hasty  sudden  thought,  and 
what  has  appeared  flattering  to  me  upon  its  first  ap 
pearance  only ;  as  such  things  often  strike,  which,  upon 
review,  give  no  satisfaction.  Tut  this  has  been  long  the 
subject  of  my  thoughts ;  often  laid  by,  and  then  again,  at 
proper  intervals,  resumed,  reviewed,  and  turned  on  all 
sides.  What  then  I  have  been  in  no  haste  to  approve 
after  carefully  weighing  and  examining  every  part,  1  shall 
hope  the  equitable  Reader  will  be  in  no  haste  to  con 
demn  or  suspect  while  he  has  seen  only  one. 


A 
CRITICAL  AND  PHILOSOPHICAL 

COMMENTARY 

ON 

MR.  POPE'S 
ESSAY  ON  HAN: 

In  which  is  contained  a  Vindication  of  the  said  ESSAY 
from  the  Misrepresentations  of 

MR.  DE  RESNEL,  the  French  Translator; 

and  of 
MR.  DE  CROUSAZ, 

Professor  of  Philosophy  and  Matheraatic* 
iu  the  Academy  of  Lausanne-, 

The  Commentator. 


Tide  quarn  iniqui  sunt  divmoruru  luunerum  Eestiuiaturet 
etiaiu  quidara  puofcssi  SAPIEXTIAM.— -SEN. 


Address  to'  Mr.  ALLEX. 

Preface. 

COMMENTARY     -     -     Letter    I. 

-  -     D°    -     -     -     -     Letter    IT. 

-  B°    -     -     -     -     Letter  III. 

-  -     D»   -     -     -     -     Letter  IV. 


TO 
MY    WORTHY    Fit  FEND, 

RALPH    ALLEN,  ESQ. 

SIR, 

I  GIVE  myself  the  pleasure  of  conversing  with  you,  in 
this  form  ;  as  I  see  you  less  under  the  idea  of  a  patron, 
than  of  a  joint  labourer  with  me  in  the  service  of  man 
kind.  For  while  I  attempt  to  explain  the  theory  of  this 
divine  philosophy  of  Universal  Benevolence,  you  illustrate 
it  by  your  practice.  At  most  therefore  I  can  but  offer 
you  the  ESSAY  ON  MAX,  set  in  a  just  light,  as  a  mirrour 
for  your  cabinet ;  where  you  may  behold  the  perfect 
image  of  your  own  mind  :  And  the  works  of  this  Artkt, 
who  is  beholden  only  to  truth  for  their  polish  and  their 
lustre,  you  are  too  well  acquainted  with  to  suspect  them 
of  flattery.  To  preserve  the  lustre  of  this  mirrour  was 
the  sole  purpose  of  the  following  Letters.  For  the  dull 
breath  of  malice  had  attempted  to  defile  its  purity  •  and, 
by  staining  it  with  the  black  imputation  of  Fatalism,  to 
tarnish  every  virtue  it  reflected. 

It  hath  been  observed  in  Physics,  that  nature  never 
gave  an  excellence,  but  she  at  the  same  time  produced 
its  contrary,  with  qualities  peculiarly  adapted  to  its  de 
struction.  As  we  see  how  this  serves  the  wise  ends  of 
Providence,  by  keeping  us  in  that  state  of  imperfection 
and  dependence  in  which  it  hath  pleased  the  Author  of 
all  Things  to  place  us,  we  need  not  be  much  surprised 
to  find  the  same  phenomenon  in  the  moral  world:  In  no 
instance  more  apparent  than  in  the  doctrine  of 'FATE, 
which,  almost  coaeval  with  the  practice  o/'  VIRTUE,  is  yet 
altogether  the  destruction  of  it. 

But  as  there  is  not  that  decay,  nor  degeneracy  of  good, 
in  the  natural  as  in  the  moral  world ;  so  neither  is  there 
4hat  increase  of  evil.  I  say  this  chiefly  with  regard  to 
the  -doctrine  of  Fate,  which  hath  beea  still  growing,  from 

age 


i6  DEFENCE  OF  MR.  POPE, 

age  to  age,  in  absurdity  and  impiety:  And  therefore  no 
Bonder,  that  virtue,  whose  specific  bane  it  is,  should 
proportionally  sicken  and  decline. 

Indeed,  it  stopped  not  till  it  became  like  the  Tree  in 
the  Chaldtfans  vision,  which  reached  to  heaven,  mid  ex 
tended  over  the  whole  earth  ;  and  received  all  the  irrational 
and  impure  Creation,  birds,  beasts,  and  insects,  to  its 
shade  and  shelter. 

To  considerate  in  its  growth  arid  progress,  it  divides 
itself  into  four  principal  branches. 

The  first  and  earliest  is  that  which  arose  from  the 
strange  and  prodigious  events  in  the  life  of  Man  :  Where' 
the  amazed  beholder  observing  the  ends  of  human  wisdom 
so  perpetually  defeated,  even  when  supported  by  the 
likeliest  means,  concluded  that  nothing  less  than  an  over 
ruling  fate  had  'traversed  his  well-conducted  designs. 
This  early  conclusion  concerning  God's  government  here, 
from  observations  on  civil  events,  was  again  inferred  in 
after  ages,  by  another  set  of  men,  with  regard  to  his 
government  hereafter,  from  their  contemplations  on  re 
ligious  ;  while,  from  an  u^ter  inability  to  penetrate  the 
designs  of  Providence  in  its  partial  Revelations  to  man 
kind,  they  concluded  $&&  fate  or  predestination  had  de 
termined  of  our  future,  as  well  as  present  happiness. 
These,  which  arc  only  different  modifications  of  the  same 
imaginary  power,  may  be  called  the  POPULAR  and  RE 
LIGIOUS  fate. 

The  second  kind  arose  from  a  supposed  moral  influence 
of  th,e  heavenly  bodies :  founded  in  an  early  superstition 
that  the  hero-gods  had  migrated  into  stars.  It  was  first 
understood  to  be  confined  to  communities,  as  such  were 
the  more  immediate  care  of  these  heroes  while  living : 
But  the  same  considerations  which  produced  the  first 
species  of  J ate,  in  a  little  time,  extended  it  to  particulars. 
And  this  is  the  CIVIL  or  ASTROLOGIC  fate.  Hitherto, 
free-will  was  only  curbed,  or  rendered  useless.  To 
annihilate  it  quite,  needed  all  the  power  of  philosophy. 
So  true  is  the  observation,  that  without  philosophy  Man 
can  hardly  become  either  thoroughly  absurd  or  miserable. 

The  Sophist,  in  his  profound  inquiries  into  human 
nature,  and  on  what  it  is  we  do,  when  we  judge,  deliber 
ate,  and  resolve,  came  at  length  to  this  short  conclusion, 

That 


IN  ANSWER  TO  CROUSAZ.  17 

That  the  mind  is  no  more  than  a  machine ',  and  that  its 
operations  art  determined  in  the  same  manner  that  a 
balance  is  inclined  by  its  weights.  This  absolute  necessity 
of  man's  actions  is  the  third  species  of  Jate,  called  the 
PHILOSOPHIC. 

From  this,  to  the  last,  that  is  to  say,  the  necessity  of 
COD'S,  was  an  easy  step.  For  when,  from  the  very 
nature  of  mind  and  wilt,  the  philosopher  had  demonstrated 
the  absurdity  of  freedom  in  man,  the  same  conclusion 
would  hold  as  to  all  other  beings  whatsoever.  And  this 
is  the  ATHEISTIC  fate. 

These,  Sir,  were  the  glorious  effects  of  PRIDE  :  which 
our  incomparable  Friend,  with  so  good  reason,  esteems 
the  source  of  all  our  misery  and  impiety.  The  pride  of 
accounting  for  the  ways  of  Providence  begot  the  two  first 
species:  and  the  pride  of  comprehending  the  essences  of 
things,  the  two  latter.  Ah!  misera  mens  hominum,  quo 
te  FATA  stfpiss'mie  trahunt!  In  the  name  of  Paul,  if 
one  might  be  allowed  to  ask,  What  shall  deliver  us  from 
the  body  of  this  fate?  which  hangs  about  the  soul  like 
that  punishment  of  the  ancient  Tyrant,  who  bound  dead 
bodies  to  the  living.  I  answer,  the  Religion  si  JESUS: 
which  hath  instructed  us  as  clearly  in  fche  Nature  of  Man, 
as  in  the  Nature  of  God ;  in  the  subject,  as  well  as  in  the 
object,  of  worship.  A  worship  founded,  as  reason  and 
conscience  tell  us  it  ought,  on  these  two  great  principles, 
the  FREEDOM  and  the  WEAKNESS  of  Man.  The  first, 
making  our  approach  to  God  a  REASONABLE  SERVICE  ; 
the  latter,  God's  approach  to  us  a  COVENANT  OF  GRACE. 
And  this,  Sir,  is  that  glorious  Gospel,  which  you  are  not 
ashamed  to  adore,  as  able  to  put  to  silence  the  ignorance 
of  foolish  men. 

And,  in  fact,  the  fa&hicnable  reasoner  is  now  gone 
over  to  the  cause  of  Liberty  ;  but  still  true  to  his  over 
weening  pride,  is  gone  over — in  the  o  her  extreme.  Let 
the  Fatalist  talk  what  he  pleases  of  the  mind'?  being  a 
balame,  if  its  operations  be  mechanical ,  lam  sure  it  is 
more  like  a  pendulum,  which,  when  well  leaded,  is  in 
cessantly  swinging  from  one  side  to  the  other.  For  the 
vain  reasoner  is  now  as  much  disposed  to  deny  the  weak 
ness  of  the  mind,  as  before  to  deny  its  freedom.  Hence 
it  is,  we  see  the  Christian  Doctrine  of  GRACE  despised 
•  VOL.  XI.  C  and 


18  DEFENCE  OF  MR.  POPE, 

and  laughed  at ;  and  the  means  instituted  by  its  Founder 
for  obtaining  it,  as  impiously  as  sophistically,  explained 
away.  Yet  without  human  freedom  Religion  in  general  i& 
a  farce  ;  and  but  on  the  truth  of  human  weakness,  the  Re>- 
ligion  of  Jesus,  a  falsehood. 

With  regard  then  to  free-will,  what  need  we  more  than 
the  declaration  of  Religion  ?  The  simple-minded  man 
naturally  suppose*  it;  the  good  man  feels  it ;  the  think 
ing  man  understands  it ;  and  nothing  but  vain  philosophy 
holds  out  both  against  Nature  and  Grace :  Not  so  openly 
indeed  as  formerly ;  but  still  as  obstinately.  The  ablest 
advocates  of  necessity  now  inveloping  it  in  systems',  and 
insinuating  it  in  all  the  artful  detours  of  what  they  call  a 
sufficient  reason. 

None  have  gone  farther,  or  with  more  success,  into 
this  contrivance,   than  the  famous  Leibnitz ;  who,  with 
great  parts  and  application  of  mind,  had  an  immoderate 
ambition  of  becoming  founder  of  a  sect.     He  first  at 
tempted  to  raise  a  name,  like  the  heroes  of  old,  by  the 
invasion  of  another's  property :  But  being  detected  and 
repulsed,    he  turned  himself  to  invention ;  and  framed 
an  hypothesis  in  direct  opposition  to  that  theory  which  he 
before   seemed  willing  to  have   made  his  own.     This 
hypothesis,  founded  in  a  refined  Fatalism,  he  chose  to 
deliver  by  hints  only,  and  in  piecemeal ;  whfch,  at  the 
same  time  that  it  gave  his  scheme  an  air  of  depth  and 
mystery,  kept  its  absurdities  from  being  observed.     So 
that  it  soon  made  its  fortune  amongst  the  German  wits; 
who  were  not  out  of  their  way  when  they  took  the  same 
deep  and  cloudy  road  with  their  master.     It  was  no 
wonder  then,  that  this  should  raise  a  jealousy  in  the  ad 
vocates  of  Religion,  and  make  the  warmer  sort  of  them 
(not  the  best  at  a  charitable  distinction,  though  great 
logicians)  to  mistake  their  friends  for  their  enemies. 

Amongst  other  follies  of  this  kind,  it  brought  down  a 
storm  of  calumny  on  the  ESSAY  ON  MAN  ;  and,  in  its 
turn,  occasioned  this  vindication  of  our  inimitable  Poet 
A  short,  and  an  easy  task.  For  my  point,  you  know, 
Sir,  was  not  to  expose  the  absurdity  of  fate ;  but  to  prove 
the  Essay  free  from  a  doctrine,  which  my  Adversary  and 
I  agreed  to  be  an  absurdity.  But  if  any  one,  confiding 
in  the  tricks  of  sophistry  under  the  cloudy  conveyance  of 

metaphysics. 


IK  ANSWER  TO  CROUSAZ.  19 

metaphysics,  would  dispute  this  point  with  us ;  I  shall 
give  up  my  share  of  him  to  my  Adversary,  and  leave  him 
entirely  to  the  mercy  of  his  logic.  All  the  answer  he 
must  expect  from  me,  is  of  that  kind  with  the  Philoso 
pher's,  who,  disputing  with  one  who  denied  local  motion, 
only  used  his  legs,  ancl  walked  out  of  his  company  :  That 
is  to  say,  I  shall  decline  his  challenge  merely  for  the 
exercise  of  my  freedom.  And  indeed,  what  other  answer 
does  he  deserve,  who  refuses  to  acquiesce  in  that  CON 
SCIOUSNESS  of  freedom  which  every  plain  man  has.  on 
reflecting  upon  what  passes  in  his  mind  when  he  thinks 
and  acts? 

But  yet,  it  may  be  worth  while  to  remark  the  nature 
Gf  this  consciousness;  from  which  alone  (as  I  think.  Sir, 
I  have  had  the  pleasure  to  ohserve  to  you  in  our  conver 
sation  on  these  subjects)  freedom  of  will  may  be  de- 
ironstrated  to  all  but  the  downright  atheist.  It  will,  I 
suppose,  be  allowed  to  be  an  impression  on  the  mind, 
made  hy  reflexion,  as  strong  as  any  of  those  made  by 
sensation.  And  sure  he  must  be  as  blind  as  even  blind 
fate  can  make  him,  who  does  not  see  thus  far  at  least. 
So  that  the  only  question  is,  whether  it  be,  like  them, 
subject  to  deception  ?  I  answer,  No.  And  first,  for  a 
natural  reason,  As  the  organs  of  sense  are  not  employed 
to  convey  the  intelligence :  But  secondly  and  principally, 
for  a  moral  one,  As  there  would  be  nothing  left  to  re 
dress  the  wrong  representation.  For,  reason,  which 
performs  this  office  in  the  false  impressions  of  sense,  is 
the  very  faculty  employed  in  making  the  impressions  of 
reflexion.  Were  these  therefore  liable  to  the  same  kind 
of  deception,  we  should  be  unavoidably  led  into  and  kept 
in  error  by  the  natural  frame  and  constitution  of  things. 
But  as  this  would  reflect  on  the  Author  of  Nature,  no 
Theist,  I  presume,  will  be  inclined  to  admit  the  conse 
quence.  If  the -Fatalist  should  reply,  that  reason,  when 
well  exercised  and  refined,  does  here,  as  in  the  false  im 
pressions  of  sense,  lay  open  the  delusion ;  this,  I  must 
tell  him,  is  the  very  folly  we  complain  of:  That,  when 
things  are  submitted  to  the  arbitrement  of  Reason,  her 
award  should  be  rejected  while  standing  in  the  road  of 
Nature,  with  all  her  powers  and  faculties  entire ;  and 
not  thought  worthy  to  be  heard,  till  made  giddy  in  the 

c  3  airy 


20  DEFENCE  OF  MR.  POPE. 

airy  heights  of  metaphysics^  and  racked  and  tortured  fiy 
all  the  engines  of  sophistry  :  In  a  word,  when  Reason  is 
no  move  herself;  but  speaks  as  her  keepers  and  tormen 
tors  dictate. 

However,  it  is  not  the  looking  within  only,  that  as 
sures  the  Theist  of  his  freedom.  What  he  may  observe 
abroad  of  the  horrid  mischiefs  and  absurdities  arising  from 
the  Doctrine  of  Fate,  will  fully  convince  him  of  this 
truth.  It  subverts  and  annihilates  all  Religion:  For  the 
belief  of  rewards  and  punishments,  without  which  no  Re 
ligion  can  subsist,  is  founded  on  the  principle  of  Man's 
being  an  accountable  creature ;  but  when  freedom  of 
will  is  wanting,  Man  is  no  more  so  than  a  Clock  or 
Organ.  It  is  likewise  highly  injurious  to  Society :  For 
whoever  thinks  himself  no  longer  in  his  own  power,  will 
be  naturally  inclined  to  give  the  reins  to  his  passions,  as 
it  is  submitting  to  that  fate  which  must  at  last  absolutely 
turn  and  direct  them. 

But,  after  all,  the  most  powerful  argument  for  Freedom, 
I  confess,  Sir,  is  such  a  life  as  yours.  Of  which,  though 
I  could  say  much,  aad  with  pleasure,  I  will  only  say  that 
it  has  made  me,  in  common  with  every  one  who  know& 
you, 

Your  obliged, 

your  affectionate, 

and  your  faithful  servant, 

W.  WARBURTON. 

May  18,  174-2.. 


PREFACE. 


THERE  are  two  sorts  of  Writers,  I  mean  the  BJCOT 
and  the  FREE-THINKER,  that  every  honest  man  in  his 
heart  esteems  no  better  than  the  pests  of  society  ;  as  they 
are  manifestly  the  bane  of  Literature  and  Religion. 
And  whoever  effectually  endeavours  to  serve  either  of 
these,  is  sure  immediately  to  offend  both  of  those.  For, 
the  advancement  of  literature  is  as  favourable  to  true 
piety,  as  it  is  fatal  to  superstition,  and  the  advancement 
of  religion  as  propitious  to  real  knowledge  as  discrediting 
to  vain  science. 

The  Author  of  the  following  Letters,  who  hath  aimed 
at   least  to  do  this  service,  by  his  writings,  regarding 
these  two  sorts  of  men,  as  the  irreconcileable  enemies  of 
his  design,  began  without  any  ceremony  (for  lie  was  not 
disposed,  for  their  sake,  to  go  about)  to  break  through 
those  lumpish  impediments  they  had  thrown  across  the 
road  of  Truth  ;  and  laboured  to  clear  the  way,  not  only 
for  himself,  but  for  all  who  were  disposed  to  follow  him. 
In  which  it  fared  with  him  as  it  .sometimes  happens  to 
those  who  undertake  to  remove  a  public  nuisance  for  the 
benefit  of  their  neighbourhood,  where  tlie  nicer  noses 
hold  themselves  oftended  even  in  the  service  thus  unde 
servedly  rendered    to   them.     For  notwithstanding   our 
Author  hath  taken  all  opportunities,  and  even  sought  out 
occasions  to  celebrate  every  Writer,  living  or  dead,  who 
was  any  way  respectable  for  knowledge,  virtue,  or  piety, 
in   whatever   party,    sect,    or   religion,    he   was   found, 
especially  such  as  he  had  the  misfortune  to  dissent  from, 
and  this  Sometimes  with  so  liberal  a  hand  as  to  give 
offence  on  that  side  likewise ;  though  he  hath  done  this, 
I  say,    yet   having,    for   the   reasons  above,    declared 
eternal  war  with  Bigotry  and  Free-tkmking,  the  strong, 
yet  sincere  colours  in  which  he  hath  drawn  the  learning, 
sense,  candour,  and  truth  of  those  subjects  in  which  these 
noble  qualities  are  most  eminent,  have  been  censured  as 

C3  insolence 


22          VINDICATION  OF  MR.  POPE. 

insolence  and  satire,  and  a  transgression  of  all  the  bounds 
of  civility  and  decorum.  But  he  will  not  be  easily  in 
duced,  by  the  chmours  uf  the  falsely  delicate,  to  betray 
the  interests  ot  all  the»t  is  good  and  valuable  amongst  men, 
in  corn,...*;s.,r!ce  to  their  notions  of  politeness.  Tis  no 
time  to  staiij  upon  ceremony  wneri  Religion  is  struggling 
for  life ;  when  the  whole  Head  is  sick,  and  the  whole 
H^art  taint. 

Th<>  Bigot*  who,  between  a  corrupt  will,  and  a  narrow 
understanding,  imputes  odious  designs  to  his  adversaries, 
and  impious  consequences  to  their  opinions,  is  rot,  I 
suppose,,  to  l/e  complimented,  either  into  sense  or  honesty. 
The  Writer  here  confuted  is  amongst  the  chief  of  them. 
And  it  is  not  impossible  but  the  recent  memory  of  the 
like  usage  our  Author  himself  met  with  from  others  of  the 
same  leaven,  might  give  him  a  quicker  sense  and  stronger 
resentment  of  the  injury  done  his  neighbour. 

As  for  the  tribe  of  Free-thinkers,  Toland,  Tindal,  Col 
lins,  Coward,  Blount,  Strutt,  Chub,  Dudgeon,  Mor 
gan,  Tillard,  and  their  fellows,  the  mortal  foes  both  of 
reason  and  religion,  injured  wit  as  well  as  virtue,  by  the 
mouth  of  their  happiest  advocate  and  favourite,  long  ago 
called  out  for  vengeance  on  them  : 

—  The  Licence  of  a  following  reign 
Did  all  the  dregs  of  bold  Socbws  drain ; 
Then  unbelieving  priests  reform'd  the  nation, 
And  taught  more  pleasant  methods  of  salvation  ; 
Where  Heaven's  free  subjects  might  their  rights  dispute, 
Lest  God  iiimself  should  seem  too  absolute. 
Encourag'd  thus,  Wit's  Titans  brav'd  the  skies, 
And  the  press  groan'd  with  licensed  blasphemies. 
These  monsters,  Cniics,  with  your  darts  engage, 
Here  point  your  thunder,  and  exhaust  your  rage  ! 


COMMENTARY 

ott 

MR.  POPE'S 
ESSAY    ON   MAN. 


LETTER  I. 

WHEN  a  great  Genius,  whose  Writings  have 
afforded  the  world  much  pleasure  and  instruc 
tion,  happens  to  be  enviously  attacked  and  falsely  Ac 
cused,  it  is  natural  to  think,  that  a  sense  of  gratitude 
due  from  readers  so  agreeably  obliged,  or  a  sense  of 
that  honour  resulting  to  our  Country  from  such  a  Writer, 
should  raise  a  general  indignation.  But  every  .day's  ex 
perience  shews  us  the  very  contrary.  Some  take  a 
malignant  satisfaction  in  the  attack;  others,  a  foolish 
pleasure  in  a  literary  conflict ;  aad  the  greater  part  look 
on  with  an  absolute  indifference. 

Mr.  De  Crousazs  Remarks  *  on  Mr.  Popes  Essay  on 
Man,  seen  in  part,  through  the  deceitful  medium  of  a 
French  translation,  have  just  fallen  into  my  hands.  As 
those  Remarks  appear  to  me  very  groundless  and  unjust, 
I  thought  *o  much  due  to  truth,  as  to  vindicate  our  Great 
Countryman  from  his  censure. 

The  principal  object  therefore  of  this  Vindication  shall 
be,  to  give  the  Reader  a  fair  and  just  idea  of  the  Reason 
ing  of  that  Essay,  so  egregiously  misrepresented ;  in 

*  They  are  contained  in  two  several  Books,  the  one  entitled, 
Examen  de  I'Essai  de  Mr.  Pope ;  a  Lausanne,  1737.  The  other, 
Cojnmfntaire  sur  la  Traduction  en  vers  de  M.  VAbbe  Du  Resntl  de 
i'Essw  de  Mr,  Pope  sur  I'Homme ;  a  Geaeve,  1738, 

c  4  which 


24  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

\vhich  I  shall  not  consider  it  as  a  Poem  (for  it  stands  in 
no  need  of  the  licence  of  such  kind  of  works  to  defend 
it),  but  as  a  System  of  Philosophy ;  and  content  myself 
\vith  a  plain  representation  'of  the  sobriety,  force,  and 
connection  of  that -Reasoning. 

I  shall  begin  with  the  first  Epistle.  '  The  opening  of 
•which,  in  Jifteen  lines,  is  taken  up  in  giving  an  account 
of  his  subject;  which  he  shews  us  (agreeably  to  the 
title)  is  An  ESSAY  , ON  MAN,  or  a  Philosophical  In 
quiry  into  his  Nature,  and  End,  his  Passions,  and 
Pursuits: 

A  mighty  maze! — but  not  without  a  plan, 

as  Mr.  I)e  Crousaz  and  I  have  found  it,  between  us. 
The  next  line  tells  us  with  what  design  he  wrote,  viz. 

To  vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  Man. 

The  men  he  writes  against  he  hath  frequently  informed 
us  are  such,  as 

Weigh  their  opinion  against  Providence. — 1.  no. 
Such  as, 

—cry,  if  Man's  unhappy.  God's  unjust. — 1.  114. 
Such  as  fall  into  the  notion, 

That  vice  and  virtue  there  is  none  at  all. 

Ep.  ii.  1.  202. 

This  occasioneth  the  Poet  to  divide  his  Vindication  of 
the  IVays  of  God  into  two.  Parts.  In  thejirst  of  which 
he  gives  direct  answers  to  those  objections  which  liber 
tine  men,  on  a  view  of  the  disorders  arising  from  the 
perversity  of  the  human  will,  have  intended  against  Pro 
vidence  :  And,  in  the  second,  he  obviates  all  those  objec 
tions,  by  a  true  delineation  of  human  Nature,  or  a 
general  but  ex-act  Map  of  Man  ;  which  these  objectors 
either  not  knowing,  or  mistaking,  or  else  leaving  (for  the 
mad  pursuit  of  metaphysical  entities),  have  lost  and  be 
wildered  themselves  in  a  thousand  foolish  complaints 
against  Providence.  The  first  Epistle  is  employed  in 
the  management  of  the  first  part  of  this  dispute ;  and 
the  three  following  in  .the  management  of  the  second. 
So  that  the  whole  constitutes  a  complete  Essay  on  Man, 
written  for  the  best  purpose,  to  vindicate  the  ways  of 
God. 

The 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.  25 

The  Poet  therefore  having  enounced  his  subject,  his 
of  'writing,  and  the  quality  oj  ".his  adversaries,  pro 
ceeds  [from  1.  16  to  23.  |  to  instruct  us  from  whence  he 
intends  to  draw  his  arguments  for  their  confutation  ; 
namely,  from  the  risible  things  of  God,  in  this  system, 
to  demonstrate  the  invisible  tkmgs  of  God,  his  eternal 
power  and  godhead:  And  why ;  because  we  can  reason 
only  from  what  we  know,  and  we  know  no  more  of  Man 
than  what  we  see  of  his  station  here;  no  more  of  God 
than  what  we  see  of  his  dispensations  to  Man  in  this 
station ;  therefore 

Thro'  worlds  unnumbered  though  the  God  be  known, 
Tis  ours  to  trace  him  only  in  our  own  *. 

This  naturally  leads  the  Poet  to  exprobrate  the  miserable 
folly  and  impiety  of  pretending  to  pry  into,  and  call  in 
question,  the  profound  dispensations  of  Providence: 
Which  reproof  contains  [from  1.  22  to  43.]  the  most 
sublime  description  of  the  omniscience  of  God,  and  the 
miserable  blindness  and  presumption  of  Man. 

Presumptuous  Man !  the  reason  would  st  thou  find 
Why  form'd  so  weak,  so  little,  and  so  blind  ? 
First,  if  thou  canst,  the  harder  reason  guess 
Why  form'd  no  weaker,  blinder,  and  no  less? 
Ask  of  thy  mother  earth,  why  oaks  are  made, 
Taller  or  stronger  than  the  weeds  they  shade  ? 
Or  ask  of  yonder  argent  fields  above, 
Why  Jove's  satellites  are  less  than  Jove  ? 
In  the  four  last  lines,  the  Poet  has  joined  the  utmost 
Jbeauty  of  argumentation  to  the  sublimity  of  thought; 
where  the  similar  instances,  proposed  for  their  examina 
tion,    shew  as  well  the  absurdity  of  their  complaints 
against  order,  as  thzfruitlesmess  of  their  inquiries  into 
the  arcana  of  the  Godhead. 

So  far  his  modest  and  sober  Introduction :  In  which 
Le  truly  observes,  that  no  wisdom  less  than  omniscient 
Can  tell  why  Heav'n  has  made  us  as  we  are. 

Yet  though  we  can  never  discover  the  particular  reasons 
for  this  mode  of  our  existence,  we  may  be  assured  in 

*  Hunc  cognoscimus  solummodo  per  Proprieties  suas  et  Attribute!, 
et  per  sapientissimas  et  optimas  rerum  structural  et  causas  finales. 
Newtoni  Principia  Schol,  gener,  sub  finem. 

general 


26  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

general  that  it  is  right :  For  now  entering  upon  his  argu 
ment,  he  lays  down  this  self-evident  proposition  ag  the 
foundation  of  his  thesis,  which  he  reasonably  supposes 
will  be  allowed  him :  That  of  all  possible  si^u-ms,  infinite 
Wisdom  hath  formed  the  best ;  [1.  43,  44.]  From  hence 
he  draws  two  consequences : 

i.  The  first  [from  I.  44  to  51.]  is,  that  as  the  best 
system  cannot  but  be  such  a  one  as  hath  no  inconnected 
void ;  such  a  one  in  v,  hi  eh  there  is  a  perfect  coherence 
and  gradual  subordination  in  all  its  parts ;  there  must 
needs  be,  in  some  part  or  other  of  the  scale  of  life  and 
sense,  such  a  creature  as  MAN  ;  which  reduces  the  dis 
pute  to  this  absurd  question,  Whether  God  has  placed 
him  wrong  ? 

It  being  shewn  that  MAN,  the  subject  of  his  inquiry  9 
has  a  necessary  place  in  such  a  system  as  this  is  con 
fessed  to  be :  And  it  being  evident  that  the  abuse  of  free 
will,  from  whence  proceeds  ail  moral  evil,  is  the  certain 
effect  of  such  a  creature's  existence;  the  next  question 
will  be,  how  these  evils  can  be  accounted  for,  con 
sistently  with  the  idea  we  have  of  God's  attributes? 
Therefore, 

2.  The  second  consequence  he  draws  from  his  prin 
ciple,  That  of  all  possible  systems,  injinite  Wisdom  has 
formed  the  best,  is,  that  whatever  is  wrong  in  our  pri 
vate  system,  is  right,  as  relative  to  the  whole  [1.  50  to  53.] 

Respecting  Man,  whatever  wrong  we  call, 
May,  must  be  right,  as  relative  to  ALL. 

That  it  may,  he  proves  [from  1.  52  to  61.]  by  shewing 

in  what  consists  the  difference  between  the  systematic 

works  of  God  and  those  of  Man,  viz.  that,  in  the  latter, 

a  thousand  movements  scarce  gain  one  purpose ;  in  the 

former,  one  movement  gains  many  purposes.     So  that 

—Man,  who  here  seems  principal  alone, 
Perhaps  acts  second  to  some  sphere  unknown. 

And  acting  thus,  the  appearances  of  wrong  in  the  par 
ticular  system  may  be  right  in  the  universal:  For, 

Tis  but  a  part  we  see,  and  not  a  whole. 

• — That  it  must,  the  whole  body  of  this  Epistle  is  em 
ployed  to  illustrate  and  inforce.  Thus  partial  evil  is 
universal  good,  and  thus  Providence  is  fairly  acquitted, 

From 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          27 

TYom  all  this  he  draws  a  general  conclusion  [from 
I.  60  tc  Sy.J  that,  as  vhat  had  been  said  is  sufficient  to 
vindicate  the  ways  of  Providence,  Man  should  rest  sub 
missive  and  content,  and  contess  every  thing  to  be  dis 
posed  for  the  best ;  that  to  pretend  to  inquire  into  the 
manner  how  God  conducts  this  wonderful  scheme  to  its 
completion,  is  as  absurd  as  to  imagine  that  the  horse  and 
ox  shall  ever  come  to  comprehend  why  they  undergo 
such  different  manage  and  fortunes  in  the  hand  of  Man ; 
nay,  that  such  knowledge,  if  communicated,  would  be 
even  pernicious  to  Man,  and  make  him  neglect  or  desert 
his  duty  here. 

Heav'n  from  all  creatures  hides  the  Book  of  Fate, 
All  but  the  page  prescrib'd,  the  present  state, 
From  brutes  what  men,  from  men  what  spirits  know, 
Or  who  would  suffer  being  here  below  ? 

This  he  illustrates  by  an  instance  in  the  lamb,  which 
is  happy  in  not  knowing  the  fate  that  attends  it  from  the 
hand  of  the  butcher ;  and  from  thence  takes  occasion  to 
observe,  that  God  is  the  equal  master  of  all  his  crea 
tures,  and  provides  for  the  proper  happiness  of  each 
Being. 

Who  sees  with  equal  eye,  as  God  of  all, 

A  hero  perish,  or  a  sparrow  fall  *. 

But  now  the  objector  is  supposed  to  put  in,  and  say; 
"  You  tell  us  indeed,  that  all  things  will  turn  out  for 
"  good ;  but  wre  see  ourselves  surrounded  with  present 
*  evil ;  and  yet  you  forbid  us  all  inquiry  into  the  man- 
"  ner  how  we  are  to  be  extricated;  and  in  a  word,  leave 
"  us  in  a  very  disconsolate  condition."  Not  so,  replies 
the  Poet  [from  1.  86  to  95.]  you  may  reasonably,  if  you 
so  please,  receive  much  comfort  from  the  HOPE  of  a 
happy  futurity ;  a  hope  given  us  by  God  himself  for  this 
very  purpose,  as  an  earnest  of  that  bliss,  which  here 
indeed  perpetually  flies  us,  but  is  reserved  for  the  food 
man  hereafter. 

What  future  bliss  he  gives  not  thee  to  know, 
But  gives  that  hope  to  be  thy  blessing  now. 
Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast, 
Man  never  is,  but  always  to  be  blest, 

*  Matt,  x,  29. 

The 


2$  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

The  soul  uneasy,  and  confin'd  from  home, 
Kests  and  expatiates  in  a  life  to  come* 

Now  the  reason  why  the  Poet  chuses  to  insist  on  this 
proof  of  a  future  state  in  preference  to  others,  I  con 
ceive,  is  in  order  to  give  his  system  (which  is  founded  in 
a  sublime  and  improved  Platcriism)  the  utmost  grace  of 
onifermity.  For  we  know  this  HOPE  was  Plato's  pecu 
liar  argument  for  a  future  state;  and  the  words  here 
employed,  The*  soul  uneasy,  fyc.  his  peculiar  expression: 
We  have  seen  the  argument  illustrated  \\ith  great  force 
of  reasoning,  by  our  most  eminent  modern  divines  :  But 
no  where  stronger  urged  than  by  our  Poet,  in  this  Essay; 
He  says  here,  in  express  terms,  That  God  gave  us  Hope 
to  supply  that  future  blixs  which  he  at  present  keeps  hid 
jwm  its.  In  his  2d  Ep.  1.  264.  he  goes  still  farther,  and 
says,  this  HOPE  quits  us  not  even  at  death,  when  every 
thing  mortal  drops  from  us. 

Hope  travels  through,  nor  quits  us  when  we  die. 

And,  in  the  4th  Epistle  he  shews  how  the  same  HOPE 
is  a  certain  proof  of  a  future  state,  from  the  considera 
tion  of  (jod's  giving  Alan  no  appetite  hi  vain,  or  xvhat 
he  did  not  intend  should  be  satisfied ;  (which  is  Plato's 
great  argument  for  a  future  state.)  Eor,  describing  the 
condition  of  the  good  man,  he  breaks  out  into  these 
rapturous  strains : 

For  him  alone  hope  leads  from  goal  to  goal, 
And  opens  still,  and  opens  on  his  soul ; 
Till,  lengthened  on  totbith,  and  unconnVd, 
It  pours  the  bliss,  that  fills  up  all  the  mind. 
He  sees,  why  Nature  plants  in  Man  alone 
Hope  of  known  bliss,  and  faith  in  bliss  unknown : 
Nature,  whose  dictates  to  no  other  kind 
Are  giv'n  in  vain,  but  what  they  seek  they  find. 

+  1-331,  ctseq. 

It  is  only  for  the  good  man,  he  tells  us,  that  hope 
leads  from  goal  to*  goal,  $c.  It  would  be  strange  indeed 
then,  if  it  should  be  a  delusion. 

But  it  hath  been  objected,  that  the  system  of  the  best 

weakens  the  other  natural  arguments  for  a  future  state, 

because  if  the  evils  which  good  men  suffer,  promote  the 

benefit  of  the  whole,  then  every  thing  is  here  in  order ; 

5  and 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.  29 

imd  nothing  amiss  that  wants  to  be  set  -right ;  Nor  has 
the  good  man  any  reason  to  expect  a  reparation,  when 
the  evils  he  suffered  had  such  a  tendency.  To  this  we 
reply,  that  the  system  of  the  best  is  so  far  from  weaken 
ing  those  natural  arguments,  that  it  strengthens  and  sup 
ports  them.  To  consider  it  a  little,,  if  those  evils  to 
which  good  men  are  subject  be  mere  disorders,  without 
any  tendency  to  the  greater  good  of  the  wiiole,  then, 
though  we  must  indeed  conclude  that  they  will  hereafter 
be  set  right,  yet  this  view  of  things,  representing  God  a& 
suffering  disorders  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  set  them 
right,  gives  us  a  very  low  idea  of  the  Divine  Wisdom, 
But  if  those  evils  (according  to  the  system  of  the  best) 
contribute  to  the  greater  perfection  of  the  whole,  a  rea 
son  may  be  then  given  for  their  permission,  and  such  a 
one  as  supports  our  idea  of  Divine  Wisdom  to  the  highest 
religious  purposes.  Then,  as  to  the  good  man's  kopes 
of  a  retribution,  those  still  remain  in  their  original  force. 
For  our  idea  of  God's  justice,  and  how  far  that  justice 
is  engaged  to  a  retribution,  is  exactly  and  invariably  the 
same  on  either  hypothesis.  For  though  the  system  of 
the  best  supposes  that  the  evils  themselves  will  be  fully 
compensated  by  the  good  they  produce  to  the  whole,  yet 
this  is  so  far  from  supposing  that  particulars  shall  suffer 
for  a  general  good,  that  it  is  essential  to  this  system,  to 
'conclude  that,  at  the  completion  of  things,  when  the 
whole  is  arrived  to  the  state  of  utmost  perfection,  parti 
cular  and  universal  gQQ&  shall  coincide. 

Such  is  the  WORLD'S  great  harmony,  that  springs 
From  union,  order,  full  consent  of  things ; 
Where  small  and  great,  where  weak  and  mighty,  made 
To  serve  not  suffer,  strengthen  not  invade. 

Ep.  iii.  1.  296,  et  seq. 

Which  coincidence  can  never  be  without  a  retribution 
to  good  men  for  the  evils  suffered  here  below. 

To  return  then  to  the  Poet's  argument,  he,  as  we  said, 
bids  Man  comfort  himself  with  expectation  of  future- 
happiness,  and  shews  him  that  this  HOPE  is  an  earnest 
of  it :  But  first  of  all  puts  in  one  very  necessary  caution, 

Hope  humbly  then,  with  trembling  pinions  soar. 
And  provoked  at  those  miscreants,  whom  he  afterwards 


30  A  COMMENTARY  OK 

[Ep.  3.  1.  262.]  describes  as  bu'.lding  Hell  on  spite,  and 
Heaven  on  pride,  he  upbraids  them  [from  1.94  to  109.] 
\\ith  tbe  example  of  the  poor  Indian,  to  whom  also 
Nature  liatb  given  this  common  HOPE  of  mankind.  But 
though  his  untutored  uiind  had  betrayed  him  into  many 
childish  fancies  concerning  the  nature  of  that  future 
state,  yet  he  is  so  far  from  excluding  any  part  of  his  own 
species  (a  vice  which  could  proceed  only  from  vain 
science,  which  puffeth  up),  that  he  humanely  admits 
even  Aw  faithful  dog  to  bear  him  company. 

And  then  [from  1.  108  to  1 19.]  shews  them,  that  com 
plaints  against  the  established  order  of  things,  begin  in 
the  highest  absurdity  from  misapplied  reason  and  power ; 
and  end  in  the  highest  impiety,,  in  an  attempt  to  degrade 
the  God  of  Heaven,  and  assume  his  plnce. 

Go  wiser  thou,  and  in  thy  scale  of  sense 
Weigh  thy  opinion  against  Providence  : 
Destroy  all  creatures  for  thy  sport  or  gust, 
Yet  cry,  if  Man's  unhappy,  Goo's  unjust ; 
If  Man  ajone  ingross  not  Heaven's  high  care, 
Alone  made  perfect  here-,  Immortal  there, 

That  is,  be  made  God,  who  only  is  perfect,  and  hath 

immortality  : 

To  which  sense  the  lines  immediately  following  con* 

fine  us : 

Snatch  from  his  hand  the  balance  and  the  rod, 
Rejudge  his  justice,  be  the  God  of  God. 

From  these  men,  the  Poet  turns  to  his  Friend t  and 
[from  1.  118  to  137.]  remarks  that  the  ground  of  all  this 
extravagance  is  .pride;  which,  more  or  less,  infects  the 
whole  species : — shews  the  ill  effects  of  it,  in  the  case  of 
the  fallen  angels ;  and  observes,  that  even  wis/iMg  to  in 
vert  the  laws  of  order  is  a  lower  species  of  their  crime  : — i 
then  brings  an  instance  of  one  of  the  effects  of  pride, 
uhich  is  the  folly  of  thinking  every  thing  made  solely  for 
the  use  of  Man ;  without  the  least  regard  to  any  other  of 
God's  creatures. 

Ask  for  what  end  the  heavenly  Bodies  shine, 
Earth  for  whose  use  ?  PRIDE  answers,  Tis  for  mini±- 
For  ?ve9  kind  Nature  wakes  her  genial  power, 
Suckles  each  herb,  and  spreads  out  ev'ry  flower; 

Annual 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          3V 

Annual  for  me,  the  grape,  the  rose,  renew 
The  juice  nectareous,  and  the  balmy  dew  ; 
For  me,  the  mine  a  thousand  treasures  brings, 
For  me,  health  gushes  from  a  thousand  springs; 
Seas  roll  to  waft  me,  suns  to  light  me  rise, 
My  footstool,  Earth ;  my  canopy,  the  skies. 

The  ridicule  of  imagining  the  greater  portions  of  the 
material  system  were  solely  for  the  use  of  Man,  philo 
sophy  has  sufficiently  exposed  :  and  common  seme,  as  the 
Poet  shews,  instructs  us  to  know  that  our  Jellow-crea- 
tures,  placed  by  Providence  the  joint  inhabitants  of  this 
globe,  are  designed  by  Providence  to  be  joint  sharers 
with  us  of  its  blessings. 

Has  God,  thou  fool !  work'd  solely  for  thy  good, 
Thy  joy,  thy  pastime,  thy  attire,  thy  food  ? 
Who  for  thy  table  feeds  the  wanton  fawn, 
For  him  as  kindly  spreads  the  flow'ry  lawn. 
Is  it  for  thee,  the  lark  ascends  and  sings  ? 
Joy  tunes  his  voice,  joy  elevates  his  wings. 
Is  it  for  thee  the  linnet  pours  his  throat  ? 
Loves  of  his  own  and  raptures  swell  the  note. 
Is  thine  alone  the  seed  that  strows  the  plain  ? 
The  birds  of  heaven  shall  vindicate  their  grain. 

Ep.  iii.  1.  27. 

Having  thus  given  a  general  idea  of  the  goodness  and 
wisdom  of  God,  and  the  folly  and  ingratitude  of  Man, 
the  great  Author  comes  next  (after  this  necessary  prepa 
ration)  to  the  confirmation  of  his  thesis,  That  partial 
Moral  Evil  is  universal  Good  :  but  introduceth  it  with  a. 
proper  argument  to  abate  our  wonder  at  the  phaenome- 
non  of  moral  evil,  which  argument  he  builds  on  a  con 
cession  of  his  adversaries.  "  If  we  ask  you,"  says  he, 
[from  1.  136  to  147.]  "  whether  Nature  doth  not  err 
"  from  the  gracious  end  of  its  Creator,  when  plagues, 
"  earthquakes,  and  tempests,  unpeople  whole  regions 
"  at  a  time  ?  you  readily  answer.  No.  For  that  God 
"  acts  by  general  and  not  by  particular  laws ;  and  that 
"  the  course  of  matter  and  motion  must  be  necessarily 
"  subject  to  some  irregularities,  because  nothing  created 
"  is  perfect."  Say  you  so  ?  I  then  ask,  why  you  should 
expect  this  perfection  in  Man  ?  If  you  own  that  the  great 

end 


'32  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

end  of  G od  (notwithstanding  all  this  deviation)  be  general 
happiness,  then  it  is  Nature,  and  not  God  that  deviates; 
and  do  you  expect  greater  constancy  in  Man  ? 

Then  Nature  deviates,  and  can  Man  do  less ? 

i.  c.  if  Nature,  or  the  inanimate  system  (on  which  God 
hath  imposed  his  laws,  which  it  obeys  as  a  machine 
obevs  the  hand  of  the  workman),  may  in  course  of  time 
deviate  from  its  first  direction,  as  the  best  philosophy 
shews  it  may*  ;  where  is  the  wonder  that  Man,  who  was 
created  a  free  agent,  and  hath  it  in  his  power  every 
moment  to  transgress  the  eternal  Rule  of  .Right,  should 
sometimes  go  out  of  order? 

Having  thus  shewn  how7  Moral  Evil  came  into  the 
worlji,  name!}7,  \>y  Mans  abme  of  his  own  free-will,  he 
comes  to  the  point,  the  confirmation  of  his  thesis,  by 
shesving  how  moral  Evil  promotes  Good',  and  employs 
the  same  concession  of  his  adversaries,  concerning  natural 
Evil,  to  illustrate  it. 

i.  He  shews  it  tends  to  the  good  of  the  whole,  or 
universe  [front  L  146  to  1,57.]  and  this  by  analogy.  "  You 
"  own,  says  he,  that  storms  and  tempests,  clouds,  rain, 
"  heat,  and  variety  of  seasons  are  necessary  (notwith- 
"  standing  the  accidental  evils  they  bring  with  them)  to 
"  the  health  and  plenty  of  this  globe ;  why  then  should 
"  you  suppose  there  is  not  the  same  use,  with  regard  to 
"  the  universe,  in  a  Borgia  and  a  Catiline  ?  "  But  you 
say,  you  can  see  the  one  and  not  the  other.  You  say 
right.  One  terminates  in  this  system,  the  other  refers  to 
the  whole.  But,  says  the  Poet,  in  another  place, 

— of  this  frame,  the  bearings  and  the  ties, 
The  strong  connexions,   nice  dependencies, 
Gradations  just,  has  thy  pervading  soul 
Look'd  thro'  ?     Or  can  a  part  contain  the  whole  ? 

L  29,  et  seq. 

*  While  Comets  move  in  very  eccentric  orbs,  in  all  manner  of 
positions,  blind  Fate  could  never  make  all  the  Planets  move  e»e  and 
the  same  way  in  orbs  concentric,  some  inconsiderable  irregularities 
excepted,  which  may  have  risen  from  the  mutual  actions  of  Comets 
and  Planets  upon  one  another,  and  which  will  be  apt  to  increase  till 
this  system  wants  a  reformation.  Sir  Is.  Newt.  Optics,  Quest,  ult. 

Own 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          33 

Own  therefore,  says  he,  here,  that, 

From  pride,  from  pride  our  very  reasoning  springs ; 
Account  for  moral  as  for  natural  things  : 
Why  charge  we  Heaven  in  those,  in  these  acquit  ? 
In  both  to  reason  right,  is  to  submit. 

2.  But  secondly,  to  strengthen  the  foregoing  analogi 
cal  argument,  and  to  make  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
God  still  more  apparent,  he  observes  next  [from 
1.  156  to  165]  that  moral  evil  is  not  only  productive  of 
good  to  the  whole,  but  is  even  productive  of  good  in  our 
own  system.  It  might,  says  he,  perhaps  appear  better 
to  us,  that  there  were  nothing  in  this  world  but  peace 
and  virtue, 

That  never  air  nor  ocean  felt  the  wind, 
That  never  passion  discomposed  the  mind. 

But  then  consider,  that  as  our  material  system  is  sup 
ported  by  the  strife  of  its  elementary  particles,  so  is  our 
intellectual  system  by  the  conflict  of  our  passions,  which 
are  the  elements  of  human  action. 

Love,  hope,  and  joy,  fair  pleasure's  smiling  train, 
Hate,  fear,  and  grief,  the  family  of  pain, 
These  mix'd  with  art,  and  to  due  bounds  confin'd, 
-Make  and  maintain  the  balance" of  the  mind. 

Ep.  2.  1.  107,  et  seq. 

For  (as  he  says  again  in  his  second  Epistle,  where  he 
illustrates  this  observation  at  large) 

What  crops  of  wit  and  honesty  appear 

From  spleen,  from  obstinacy,  hate  or  fear  !     i.  1 75. 

In  a  word,  as  without  the  benefit  of  tempestuous  winds, 
both  air  and  ocean  would  stagnate,  and  corrupt,  and 
spread  universal  contagion  throughout  all  the  ranks  of 
animals  that  inhabit,  or  are  supported,  by  them  ;  so, 
without  the  benefit  of  the  passions,  that  harmony,  and 
virtue,  the  effects  of  the  absence  of  those  passions, 
would  be  a  lifeless  calm,  a  stoical  apathy, 

Contracted  all,  retiring  to  the  breast : 

But  health  of  mind  is  exercise,  not  rest.    Ep.  2.  1.  93. 

Therefore,  concludes  the  Poet,  instead  of  regarding  the 

conflict  of  elements,  and  the  passions  of  the  mind,  as  dis- 

VOL.  XI.  D  orders  i 


34  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

orders ;  you  ought  to  consider  them  as  what  they  are, 
part  of  the  general  order  of  Providence  :  and  that  they 
are  so,  appears  from  their  always  preserving  the  same- 
unvaried  course,  throughout  all  ages,  from  the  creation, 
to  the  present  time  : 

The  general  order,  since  the  whole  began, 
Is  kept  in  Nature,  and  is  kept  in  Man. 

We  see  therefore  it  would  be  doing  great  injustice  to 
our  Author  to  suspect  that  he  intended,  by  this,  to  give 
any  encouragement  to  vice',  or  to  insinuate  the  necessity 
of  it  to  a  happy  life,  on  the  equally  execrable  and  ab 
surd  scheme  of  the  Author  of  the  Fable  of  the  Bees.  His 
system,  as  all  his  Ethic  Epistles  shew,  is  this,  That  the 
passions,  for  the  reasons  given  above,  are  necessary  to 
the  support  of  virtue :  That  indeed  the  passions  in  ex 
cess,  produce  vice,  which  is,  in  its  owrn  nature,  the 
greatest  of  all  evils  ;  and  comes  into  the  world  from  the 
abuse  of  Man's  free-will ;  but  that  God,  in  his  infinite 
wisdom,  and  goodness,  deviously  turns  the  natural  bias 
of  its  malignity  to  the  advancement  of  human  happiness, 
and  makes  it  productive  of  general  good: 

TH'  ETERNAL  ART  EDUCES  GOOD  FROM  ILL. 

Ep.  2.  1.  1 65* 

This,  set  against  what  we  have  observed  of  the  Poet's 
doctrine  of  &  future  state,  will  furnish  us  with  an  instance 
of  his  steering  (as  he  well  expresses  it  in  his  Preface)  be* 
tween  doctrines  seemingly  opposite:  If  his  Essay  has  any 
merit,  he  thinks  it  is  in  this.  And  doubtless  it  is  uncom 
mon  merit  to  reject  the  extravagances  of  every  system, 
and  take  in  only  what  is  rational  and  real.  The  Charac 
teristics,  and  the  Fable  of  the  Bees>  are  two  seemingly 
inconsistent  systems :  The  extravagancy  of  the  first  is  in 
giving  a  scheme  of  Virtue  without  Religion  ;  and  of  the 
latter,  in  giving  a  scheme  of  Religion  without  Virtue. 
These  our  Poet  leaves  to  any  body  that  will  take  them 
up  ;  but  agrees  however  so  far  with  the first,  that  virtue- 
wrould  be  worth  having,  though  itself  was  its  only  reward; 
and  so  far  with  the  latter,  that  God  makes  evil,  against 
its  nature,  productive  of  good. 

The  Poet  having  thus  justified  Providence  in  its^er- 
mssion  of  partial  JIORAL  EYIL;  employs  the  remaining 

part 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          35 

part  of  this  Epistle  in  vindicating  it  from  the  imputation 
of  certain  supposed  NATURAL  EVILS.  For  now  he  shews, 
that  though  the  complaint  of  his  Adversaries  against  Pro 
vidence  be  on  pretence  of  real  moral  evils,  yet,  at  bottom, 
it  all  proceeds  from  their  impatience  under  imaginary 
natural  ones,  the  issue  of  a  depraved  appetite  for  vision 
ary  advantages,  which  if  Man  had,  they  would  be  either 
useless  or  pernicious  to  him,  as  unsuitable  to  his  state,  or 
repugnant  to  his  condition  [froml.  164  to  loq.J  u  Though 
"  God  (says  he)  hath  so  bountifully  bestowed  on  Man, 
"  faculties  little  less  than  angelic,  yet  he  ungratefully 
<£  grasps  at  higher ;  and  then,  extravagant  in  another 
"  extreme,  with  a  passion  as  ridiculous  as  that  is  impious, 
"  envies  even  the  peculiar  accommodations  of  Brutes. 
"  But  here  his  own  principles  shew  his  folly."  He  sup 
poses  them  all  made  for  his  use :  Now  what  use  could 
he  have  of  them,  when  he  had  robbed  them  of  all  their 
qualities.  Qualities,  as  they  are  at  present  divided, 
distributed  with  the  highest  wisdom :  But  which,  if  be 
stowed  according  to  the  froward  humour  of  these  childish 
complainers,  would  be  found  to  be  every  where  either 
wanting  or  superfluous,  But  even  with  these  brutal 
qualities  Man  would  not  only  be  no  gainer,  but  a  con 
siderable  loser,  as  the  Poet  shews,  in  explaining  the 
consequences  that  would  follow  from  his  having  his  sen 
sations  in  that  exquisite  degree  in  which  this  or  that  animal 
is  observed  to  possess  them. 

He  tells  us  next  [from  1.  198  to  225]  that  the  comply 
ing  with  such  extravagant  desires  would  not  only  be  use 
less  and  pernicious  to  Man,  but  would  be  breaking  the 
order,  and  deforming  the  beauty,  of  God's  Creation. 
In  which  this  animal  is  subject  to  that,  and  all  to  Man  ; 
who  by  his  reason  enjoys  the  benefit  of  all  their  powers  : 

Far  as  Creation's  ample  range  extends, 
The  scale  of  sensual,  mental  powers  ascends  : 
Mark  how  it  mounts,  to  Man's  imperial  race, 
From  the  green  myriads  in  the  peopled  grass  ! 
Without  this  just  gradation,  could  they  be 
Subjected  these  to  tho:je,  or  all  to  thee  ? 
The  powers  of  all  subdued  by  thee  alone, 
Js  not  thy  reason  all  those  powers  in  one  ? 

v  2  And 


36  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

And  farther  [from  L  224  to  259]  that  this  breaking  the 
order  of  things,  which  as  a  link  or  chain  connects  alt 
beings  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  would  unavoidably 
be  attended  with  the  destruction  of  the  Universe  ; 

For  if  each  system  in  gradation  roll, 
Alike  essential  to  tli'  amazing  whole ; 
The  least  confusion  but  in  one,  not  all 
That  system  only,  but  the  whole  must  fall. 
Let  Earth  unbalanced  from  her  orbit  fly, 
Planets  and  Suns  rush  lawless  thro'  the  sky : 
Let  ruling  Angels  from  their  spheres  be  huiTd, 
Ijeing  on  being  wreck'd,  and  world  on  world, 
Heaven's  whole  foundations  to  their  centre  nod. 
And  Nature  tremble  to  the  throne  of  God. 

For  that  the  several  parts  of  the  Universe  must  at  least 
compose  as  entire  and  harmonious  a  whole,  as  the  parts 
of  an  human  body  do,  cannot  be  doubted  :  Yet  we  see 
what  confusion  it  would  make  in  our  frame,  if  the  mem 
bers  were  set  upon  invading  each  other's  office. 

What  if  the  foot,  ordain'd  the  dust  to  tread, 

Or  hand  to  toil,  aspir'd  to  be  the  head  ?  $c. 

Just  as  absurd,  for  any  part  to  claim 

To  be  another  in  this  gen'ral  frame : 

Just  as  absurd,  to  mourn  the  task  and  pains 

The  great  directing  *MiND  of  ALL  ordains. 

Who  will  not  acknowledge  that  so  harmonious  a  con 
nection  in  the  disposition  of  things,  as  is  here  described,, 
is  transcendently  beautiful?  But  the  Fatalists  suppose 
such  a  one. — What  then  ?  Is  the  first  great  free  Agent 
debarred  from  a  contrivance  so  exquisite,  because  some 
men,  to  set  up  their  idol,  Fate,  absurdly  represent  it  as 
presiding  over  such  a  system  ? 

Having  thus  given  a  representation  of  God's  Creation, 
as  one  entire  whole,  where  all  the  parts  have  a  necessary 
dependance  on  and  relation  to  each  other,  and  where 
every  particular  works  and  concurs  to  the  perfection  of 
the  whole  ;  as  such  a  system  would  be  thought  above  the 
reach  of  vulgar  ideas ;  to  reconcile  it  to  their  conceptions, 

*  Veneramur  autem  et  colimus  ob  Dominium.  Deus  enim  sine 
Dominio,  Providentia,  et  causis  Finalibus,  nihil  aliud  est  quarrx 
FATUM  et  NATUUA.  Newtoni  Princip.  Schol.  gener.  sub  fiaem. 

hs 


MR.  POPES  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          37 

he  shews  [from  1.  258  to  273]  that  God  is  equally  and 
intimately  present  to  every  sort  of  substance,  to  every 
particle  of  matter,  and  in  every  instant  of  being ;  which 
eases  the  labouring  imagination,  and  makes  it  expect  no 
less,  from  such  a  presence,  than  such  a  dispensation, 

And  now,  the  Poet,  as  he  had  promised,  having  vin 
dicated  the  ways  of  God  to  Man,  concludes  [from  1.  272 
to  the  end]  that  from  what  had  been  said  it  appears,  that 
the  very  things  we  blame  contribute  to  our  happiness, 
either  as  particulars,  or  as  parts  of  the  universal  system  ; 
that  our  ignorance,  in  accounting  for  the  ways  of  Pro 
vidence,  was  allotted  to  us  out  of  compassion ;  that  yet 
%ve  have  as  much  knowledge  as  is  sufficient  to  shew  us, 
that  wre  are,  and  always  shall  be,  as  ble^t  as  we  can 
bear;  for  that  NATURE  is  neither  a  stratonic  chain  of 
blind  causes  and  effects, 

(All  nature  is  but  art  unknown  to  thee) ; 
nor  yet  the  fortuitous  result  of  Epicurean  atoms, 
(All  chance,  direction  which  thou  canst  not  see) ; 

as  these  two  species  of  atheism  supposed  it;  but  the 
wonderful  art  and  direction  (unknown  indeed  to  man) 
of  an  all-powerful,  all-wise,  all-good,  and  free  Being. 
And  therefore  we  may  be  assured,  that  the  arguments 
brought  above,  to  prove  partial  moral  evil  productive  of 
universal  good,  may  be  safely  relied  on ;  from  whence 
one  certain  truth  results,  in  spite  of  all  the  pride  and 
cavils  of  vain  reason,  That  WHATEVER  is,  is  RIGHT, 

WITH  REGARD    TO  THE  DISPOSTi  ION  OF  GoD,  AND  TQ 

ITS  ULTIMATE  TENDENCY.  And  this  truth  once  owned, 
all  complaints  against  Providence  are  secluded. 

But  that  the  reader  may  see,  in  one  view,  the  exactness 
of  the  method,  as  well  as  force  of  the  argument,  I  shall 
here  draw  up  a  short  synopsis  of  this  epistle.  The  Poet 
begins  in  telling  us  his  subject  is  An  Essay  mi  Man — 
His  end  of  writing  is  to  vindicate  Providence — Tells  us 
against  whom  he  wrote,  the  Atheists  — From  whence  he 
intends  to  fetch  his  arguments,  froni  the  visible  things  of 
God  seen  in  this  system — Lays  down  this  proposition  as 
the  foundation  of  his  thesis,  that  of  all  possible  syste-ms, 
injinite  IVisdom  has  formed  the  best — Draws  from  thence 
two  consequences;  i.  That  there  must  needs  be  some- 

p  3  where 


38  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

where  such  a  creature  as  Man ;  2.  That  the  moral  evil 
tchlch  He  is  author  oj\  is  productive  of  the  good  of  the 
whole.  This  is  his  general  thesis ;  from  whence  he  draws 
this  conclusion,  That  Man  should  rest  submissive  and 
coitteut,  and  make  the  hopes  of  futurity  his  comfort — but 
not  sitff er  tht«s  to  be  the  occasion  of  PRIDE,  which  is  the 
cause  of  all  his  impious  complaints. 

He  proceeds  to  confirm  his  thesis. — Previously  endea 
vours  to  abate  our  wonder  at  the  phenomenon  of  moral 
evil — Shews  first  its  use  to  the  perfection  of  the  universe, 
by  analogy,  from  the  use  of  physical  evil  in  this  particular 
system — Secondly,  its  me  in  this  system,  where  it  is 
turned,  providentially,  from  its  natural  bias,  to  promote 
virtue — -The»  goes  on  to  vindicate  Providence  from  the 
imputation  of  certain  supposed  natural  evils,  as  he  had 
before  justified  it  for  the  permission  of  real  moral  evil, 
in  shewing  that  though  the  Atheist's  complaint  against 
Providence  be  on  pretence  of  real  moral  evil,  yet  the 
true  cause  is  his  impatience  under  imaginary  natural 
evil',  the  issue  of  a  depraved  appetite  for  fantastical 
advanta^s,  which  he  shews,  if  obtained,  would  be  use 
less,  or  hurtful  to  Man — and  deforming  and  destructive 
to  ttie  Universe ;  as  breaking  into  that  order  by  which  it 
is  supported. — He  describes  that  order,  harmony,  and 
dost  conntction  vf  the  parts.  And,  by  shewing  the 
inainate  presence  of  God  to  his  whole  creation,  gives  a 
reason  for  an  Universe  so  amazingly  beautiful,  and  perfect. 
From  all  this  he  deduces  his  general  conclusion,  that 
Nature  being  neither  a  blind  chain  of  causes  and  effects, 
nor  yet  the  fort  nitons  result  of  wandering  atoms,  but  the 
toonderful  art  mid  direction  (f  an  all-wise,  all" good,  and 
free  Being  ;  /f-'hatcrcr  />,  is  right,  with  regard  to  the 
disposition  of  God  audits  ultimate  tendency,  which  once 
granted,  ah  com  plaints  against  Providence  a^  at  an  end. 

This  is  a  plain  and  consistent  account  of  the  argument 
of  this  famous  Epistle,  which  (though  here  humbled,  and 
stripped  or  all  its  ornaments)  hath  such  a  force  of  rea* 
soning  as  v»ouid  support  rhimes  as  bud  as  Donne's.,  and 
guch  a  strum  of  poetry  as  would  immortalize  even  the 
wretched  sophistiy  that  Mr.  DE  CROUSAZ  has  employed 


against  it. 


Whose  objections  it  is  now  high  time  we  should  con- 
4  sider, 


MR.  POTE'S   ESSAY  ON  MAN.          39 

sider.     For  having  shewn  what  Mr.  Pope's  system  really 
is,  we  come  next  to  shew  what  it  is  not ;  namely,  what 
that  writer  hath  the  injustice,  or  the  folly,  to  represent  it. 
He  begins  his  examination,  with  saying,  that  "  Mr.  Pope 
"  seems  to  him,  quite  throughout  his  system,  to  embrace 
"  the  pre-established  harmony  of  the  celebrated  Leibnitz, 
"  which,  in  his  opinion,  establishes  a  fatality  destructive 
"  of  all  religion  and  morality*." — That  the  pre-established 
harmony  of  Leibnitz  terminates  in  fate,  is  readily  owned ; 
but  that  Mr.  Pope  hath  espoused  that  impious  whimsy, 
is  an  utter  chimaera.     The  pre-established  harmony  was 
built  upon,  and  is  an  outrageous  extension  of,  a  concep 
tion  of  Plato's;  who  combating  the  atheistical  objections 
about  the  origin  of  evil,  employs  this  argument  in  defence 
of  Providence;  "  That,  amongst  an  infinite  number  of 
"  possible  worlds  in   God's  idea,   this,  which  he   hath 
"  created,  and  brought  into  being,  and  admits  of  a  mix- 
"  ture  @f  evil,  is  the  best."     But  if  the  best,  then  evil  con 
sequently  is  partial,  comparatively  small,  and  tends  to  the 
greater  perfection  of  the  whole.  This  principle  is  espoused 
and  supported  by  Mr.  Pope  with  all  the  power  of  reason 
and  poetry.     But  neither  was  Plato  a  fatalist,  nor  is 
there  any  fatalism  in  the  argument.     As  to  the  truth  of 
the  notion,  that  is  another  question ;  -and  how  far  it  clears 
up  the  very  difficult  controversy  about  the  origin  of  evil, 
that  is  still  another.     That  it  is   a  full  solution  of  all 
difficulties,  I  cannot  think,  for  reasons  too  long  to  be 
given  in  this  place.     Perhaps  we  shall  never  have  a  full 
solution  here;  and  it  may  be  no  great  matter  though  we 
have  not,   as  we  are  demonstrably  certain  of  the  moral 
attributes  of  the   Deity.     However,   what  may  justify 
Mr.  Pope  in  inforcing  and  illustrating  this  Platonic  notion 
is,  that  it  has  been  received  by  the  most  celebrated  and 
orthodox  divines  both  of  the  ancient  and  modern  Church. 
This  doctrine,  we  own,  then,  was  taken  up  by  Leibnitz ; 
but  it  was  to  ingraft  upon  it  a  most  pernicious  fatalism. 
Plato  said,  God  chose  the  best:  Leibnitz  said,  he  could 
not  but  chuse  the  best.     Plato  supposed  freedom  in  God, 
to  chuse  one  of  two  things  equally  good  :  Leibnitz  held 
the  supposition  to  be  absurd;  but  however,  admitting 

*  Examen  de  I'Essai  de  Mr.  Pope  sur  I'Homme; 

D  4  ihf 


4P  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

the  case,  he  maintained  that  God  could  not  chuse  one  of 
two  things  equally  good.  Thus  it  appears  the  first  went 
on  the  syxtem  of  freedom:  and  that  the  latter,  notwith 
standing  the  most  artful  disguises  in  his  Thcodicee,  was 
a  thorough  fatalist.  For  we  cannot  well  suppose  he 
would  give  that  freedom  to  Man  which  he  had  taken 
away  from  God.  The  truth  of  the  matter  seems  to  have 
been  this:  He  saw,  on  the  one  hand,  the  monstrous 
absurdity  of  supposing,  with  Spinosa,  that  blind  Fate  was 
the  author  of  a  coherent  Universe  ;  but  yet,  on  the  other, 
could  not  conceive,  with  Plato,  that  God  could  foresee 
and  conduct,  according  to  an  archetypal  idea,  a  world, 
of  all  possible  worlds  the  best,  inhabited  by  free  agents. 
This  difficulty,  therefore,  which  made  the  Socirtians  take 
prescience  from  God,  disposed  Leibnitz  to  take  free-will 
from  Man :  And  thus  lie  fashioned  his  fantastical  hypo^ 
thesis  :  He  supposed  that,  when  God  made  the  body,  he 
impressed  on  his  new-created  machine  a  certain  series  or 
suite  of  motions ;  and  that  when  he  made  the  fellow  soul, 
the  same  series  of  ideas,  whose  operations,  throughout 
the  whole  duration  of  the  union,  so  exactly  jumped,  that 
whenever  an  idea  was  excited,  a  correspondent  motion 
was  ever  ready  to  satisfy  the  volition.  Thus  for  instance, 
when  the  mind  had  the  will  to  raise  the  arm  to  the  head, 
the  body  was  so  p re-contrived  as  to  raise,  at  that  very 
moment,  the  part  required.  This  he  called  the  PRE- 
ESTABLISHED  HARMONY.  And  with  this  he  promised 
to  do  wonders. 

Now  we  see,  that,  from  the  principle  of  Plato,  as  well 
as  from  that  of  Leibnitz,  this  grand  consequence  follows, 
THAT  WHATEVER  is,  is  RIGHT;  because  every  thing 
in  this  world,  even  evil  itself,  tends  to  the  greater  per 
fection  of  the  whole.  This  Mr.  Pope  employs  as  a 
principle,  throughout  a  Poem  (the  most  sublime  that  ever 
was  written)  to  humble  the  pride  of  Man,  who  would 
impiously  make  God  accountable  for  his  creation.  What 
then  does  common  sense  teach  us  to  understand  by  what 
ever  is,  is  right  ?  Did  the  Poet  mean  right  with  regard 
to  Man,  or  right  with  regard  to  God  ?  Right  with  regard 
to  itself,  or  right  with  regard  to  its  ultimate  tendency? 
Surely  with  regard  to  God:  For  he  tells  us,  his  design  is 

To  vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  Man.     L  16, 

Surely 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN,          41 

Surely  with  regard  to  its  ultimate  tendency:  For  he 
tells  us  again, 

All  partial  ill  is  universal  good.     1.  283. 
Yet  Mr.  DC  Crousaz  preposterously  takes  it  the  other 
way  ;  and  so  perversely  interpreted,  it  is  no  wonder  that 
he,   and  his  wise  friends,  should  find  the  Poem  full  of 
contradictions*. 

But,  before  we  come  to  an  examination  of  particulars, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  remind  the  reader  once  again,  that 
the  subject  of  this  Epistle  is  a  justification  of  Providence, 
against  the  impious  objections  of  atheistic  Men.  It  is  to 
vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  Man. — Thus  the  Poet 
Addresses  them ' at  the  begin/ ting: 

Presumptuous  Man !  the  reason  would'st  thou  find 
Why  form'd  so  weak, -so  little,  and  so  blind  ?  1.  35. 
Then  say  not  Man's  imperfect,  Hearcn  in  fault.  1.  69. 

As  he  proceeds,  he  still  applies  his  reasoning  to  the 
same  Men: 

Go •  and  in  thy  scale  of  sense 

Weigh  thy  opinion  against  Providence ; 

Call  imperfection  what  thou  fancy 'st  such ; 

Say,  here  he  gives  too  little^  there  too  much\ 

Destroy  all  creatures  for  thy  sport  or  gust  :• 

Yet  cry,  if  Man's  unhappy,  God's  unjust.   1.  1 09,  8$  seq. . 

And  concludes  with  this  reproof  to  them : 

Cease  then,  nor  Order  Imperfection  name.     1.  273. 

Having  premised  thus  much,  we  now  proceed  to  Mr. 
De  Crousaz. 

Mr.  Pope  had  said, 

The  lamb  thy  riot  dooms  to  bleed  to-day, 
Had  he  thy  reason,  would  he  skip  and  play  ? 

*  J'ai  lu  1'essai  de  Mr.  Pope  (repond  un  ami  de  la  companie)  et 
jainais  je  n'eus  plus  besoin  de  patience.  J'ai  fait  des  grands  efforts, 
pour  y  trouver  quelque  sens  raisonable,  et  je  les  ai  fails  inutilement. 
Tan  tot  j'y  suis  tombe  sur  des  precisions  sophistiques,  tantot  sur  des 
decisions  egalement  hardies  et  sans  preuves,  tant6t  enfin  sur  des 
longues  penodesd'im  pompeux  galimatias,  &c.  Examen  de  1'Essai. — 
Thus  his  friend  runs  on  in  this  abusive  way,  and  grows  more  parti 
cular  in  his  scurrility,  while  JVJr.  De  Crousaz,  good  man,  is  unable  to 
make  him  hold  his  peace. 

Pleas'd 


42  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

Pleas'd  to  the  last,  he  crops  the  flow'ry  food, 
And  licks  the  hand  just  rais'd  to  shed  his  blood, 
O  blindness  to  the  future !  kindly  gi'/n, 
That  each  may  fill  the  circle  mark'd  by  Heav'n. 

1.  77,  #  seq. 

On  which  his  Commentator: — "  We  do  not,  indeed, 
"  perceive  any  thing  in  beasts,  that  shews  they  have  an 
"  idea  or  apprehension  of  death.  But,  surely,  with 
"  regard  to  Man,  to  reflect  on  death,  and  to  contemplate 
"  the  certainty  of  it,  are  of  great  use  to  a  prudent  life 
"  and  a  happy  death.  Reason  and  religion  agree  in  this, 
"  and  a  man  must  want  both  one  and  the  other,  to  cry 
"  out, 

"  O  blindness  to  the  future !  kindly  giv'n, 

"  That  each  may  fill  the  circle  mark'd  by  Heav'n, 

16  This  supposes,  that  if  men  had  a  foreknowledge  of 
"  their  destiny,  they  would  do  all  they  could  to  avoid  it, 
*'  and  that  they  would  succeed  :  Because,  without  this 
"  ignorance,  Heaven,  it  seems,  could  never  bring  all  its 
"  beings  to  Jill  that  circle  marked  out  by  it.  Yet  this, 
"  notwithstanding,  is  a  consequence  that  can  have  no 
"  place,  if  it  be  impossible  for  men  to  act  with  freedom. 
"  But  the  doctrine  of  FATE  necessarily  draws  us  into 
"  contradictions*."  Mr.  Crousaz  introduces  his  Com* 
mentary,  by  solemnly  acquainting  bis  reader,  That  he 
had,  from  his  very  infancy,  a  strong  bias  towards  LOGIC  : 
that  he  has  given  a  considerable  time  to  that  study,  and 
does  not  repent  his  pains',  that  he  has  profited  by  maxims 
which  he  has  found  in  books  not  written  with  a  design  to 
give  them ;  that  he  has  run  through  every  booh  that  has 
fallen  into  his  hands  under  that  title,  or  any  thing  ap- 
preaching  to  it\  that  he  has  not  even  neglected  the  most 
out -of -fashioned  works  of  this  kind:  But,  as  the  greatest 
treasure  is  worthless,  unless  well  used,  he  is  resolved  to 
employ  some  of  it  upon  Mr.  Popef.  And  here  you 
have  the  fruits  of  his  labours.  Here  he  has  shewn,  to 
some  purpose,  his  skill  m  extracting  doctrines  from  books 
not  designed  to  give  them.  And  for  this  passage  I  will 

*  Commentaire  sur  Ja  Traduction  en  vers  de  Mr.  1'Abbe  du  Resnel 
de  FEssai  de  Mr,  Pope  sur  I'Homuie,  p.  63,  64* 
t  P.  27,  28. 

be 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.        43 

be  answerable,  that  be  has  extracted  a  doctrine  from  it 
which  our  POET  did  not  design  to  give;  who,  when  he 
had  answered  the  atheistical  objection  about  positive 
evil,  supposes  the  Objector  to  reply  to  this  effect : — It  may 
be  true,  what  you'  say,  that  partial  evil  tends  to  universal 
good :  But  why,  then,  has  not  God  let  me  clearly  into 
this  secret,  and  acquainted  me  with  the  manner  how  ? 
The  Poet  replies,  "  For  very  good  reasons.  You  were 
"  sent  into  the  world  on  a  task  and  duty  to  be  performed 
"  by  you.  And  as  the  knowing  these  things  might 
"  distract  you,  or  draw  you  from  your  station ;  it  was  in 
"  mercy  that  God  hath  hid  these  things  from  you : 

Heav'ri  from  all  creatures  hides  the  book  of  fate, 
All  but  the  page  prescribed,  their  present  state, 
From  brutes  what  Men,  from  Men  what  spirits  know ; 
Or  who  would  suffer  Being  here  below?     1.  73,  fy  seq. 

"  To  illustrate  this  by  a  familiar  instance;  how  kindly 
"  hath  Nature  acted  by  the  lamb,  in  hiding  its  death  from 
"  it;  the  knowledge  of  which  would  have  jmbitter'd  all 
"  its  life  ?"  This  is  the  force  of  the  Poet's  argument;  and 
nothing  can  be  better  connected,  or  more  beautiful. 
But  our  great  Logician,  instead  of  attending  to  the  argu 
ment  of  a  very  close  reasoner  (whose  thread  of  reasoning, 
therefore,  one  should  have  imagined  might  have  conducted 
a  mathematician  too,  as  he  is,  to  the  true  sense  of  the 
passage)  rambles  after  a  meaning  that  could  not  possibly 
be  Mr.  Pope's ;  because  it  both  disagrees  with  the  con 
text,  and  directly  opposes  what  he  lays  down  in  express 
words  in  this  very  essay.  Mr.  De  Crousaz,  we  see, 
imagines  that  this  instance  of  the  lamb  was  given  to  shew 
how  hurtful  a  gift  God  bestowed  upon  us,  when  he  gave 
us  the  knowledge  of  our  end.  Mr.  Pope  says  expressly, 
that  it  was  ^friendly  gift  : 

To  each  unthinking  being  Heav'n  a  friend, 
Gives  not  the  useless  knowledge  of  its  end: 
To  Man  imparts  it :  but  with  such  a  view, 
As;  while  he  dreads  it,  makes  him  hope  it  too. 

Ep.  iii.  1.  75,  <§•  seq, 

i.  e.  "  Heaven,  which  is  not  only  friendly  to  Man,  but 
'  beast,  gives  not  this  latter  the  knowledge  of  its  end; 
-'  because  such  knowledge  (which  is  necessarily  attended 

"  with 


44  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

"  with  anxiety)  would  be  useless  to  it.  On  the  other 
"  hand,  He  gives  it  to  Man ;  because  it  is  of  the  highest 
"  advantage  to  him,  who,  being  to  exist  in  a  future  state, 
"  may,  by  this  means,  make  a  fitting  preparation  for  his 
"  good  reception  there;  which  preparation  will  temper, 
"  and,  at  length,  quite  subdue  the  anxiety  necessarily 
"  attendant  (as  is  said)  on  the  knowledge  of  our  end,  by 
"  the  certain  hope  of  a  happy  immortality." 

After  these  extraordinary  fruits  of  our  Logician's  long 
application  to  the  art  of  thinking,  he  goes  on,  for  four 
pages  together*,  to  shew  how  useful  and  necessary  it  is 
for  Man  to  cultivate  his  understanding.  You  ask  whom 
he  contradicts  in  this?  He  absurdly  supposes,  Mr.  Pope; 
while  he  is  indeed  but  quarrelling  with  his  own  imagina 
tions.  Here  we  must  recollect  what  we  observed  above 
of  the  subject  of  the  Poem ;  which  is  a  vindication  of 
Providence  against  impious  complainers.  As  these  will 
not  acknowledge  it  just  and  good,  because  they  cannot 
comprehend  it,  and  as  this  argument  is  only  supported 
by  pride,  the  Poet  thought  proper  to  mortify  that  pride ; 
which  could  not  be  done  more  effectually,  than  by  shew 
ing  them,  that  even  a  savage  Indian  reasoned  better : 

Lo !  the  poor  Indian,  whose  untutor'd  mind 
Sees  God  in  clouds,  and  hears  him  in  the  wind ; 
His  soul  proud  science  never  taught  to  stray 
Far  as  the  solar  walk,  or  milky  wray  3 
Yet  simple  nature  to  his  hope  has  giv'n, 
Behind  the  cloud-topt  hill,  an  humbler  heav'n ; 
To  be  contents  his  natural  desire, 
He  asks  no  angel's  wing,  or  seraph's  fire,  8$c. 

1.  95,  Sgseq. 

What  are  we  to  conclude  from  hence  ?  That  Mr.  Pope 
intended  to  di,scourage  all  improvements  of  the  human 
Understanding  ?  or  that  it  was  only  his  design  to  deter 
men  from  impiety,  and  from  presuming  to  rejudge  the 
justice  of  their  Creator?  Mr.  Crousaz,  contrary  to 
common  sense,  and  the  whole  tenor  of  the  Epistle,  has 
chosen  the  former  part;  though  Mr.  Pope  had  imme«» 
d lately  added, 

*  Cojnmentaire,  p.  66  to  70, 

Go 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          4.5 

Go  wiser  thou,  and  in  thy  scale  of  sense 
Weigh  thy  opinion  against  Providence. 
Call  imperfection  what  thou  fancy 'st  such, 
Say,  Here  he  gives  too  little,  there  too  much ; 
Destroy  all  creatures  for  thy  sport  or  gust : 
Yet  cry,  If  Man's  unhappy,   God's  unjust. 

1.  109.  fy  seq* 

But  to  this,  the  Commentator: — "  To  whom  does 
rt  Mr.  Pope  address  himself  in  this  long  period  ?  Is  it 
"  to  those  presumptuous  men,  who  are  continually 
"  confounding  themselves,  and  abusing  the  fruitful- 
"  ness  of  their  imaginations,  to  teaze  good  Christians 
"  with  objections  against  Providence  ?  Their  rashness 
"  and  impatience  well  deserve,  in  my  opinion,  the  cen- 
"  sures  Mr.  Pope  here  inflicts  upon  them*. "--Wonder 
ful  !  Our  Logician  has,  at  length,  discovered  the  subject 
of  Mr.  Pope's  Epistle.  Why  then  did  he  not  do  justice 
to  truth,  by  striking  out  all  the  rest  of  his  remarks  ?  For 
if  this  be  right,  all  the  rest  must,  of  consequence,  be 


wrong. 


Mr.  Pope  says,  speaking  of  the  end  of  Providence, 
As  much  that  end  a  constant  course  requires 
Of  showers  and  sunshine,  as  of  Man's  desires; 
As-much  eternal  springs  and  cloudless  skies, 
As  Men  for  ever  temp'rate,  calm  and  wise. 

1.  147,  #&Y. 

On  which  the  Examiner,  "  A  continual  spring  and  a 
"  heaven  without  clouds  would  be  fatal  to  the  earth  and 
"  its  inhabitants ;  but  can  we  regard  it  as  a  misfortune 
"  that  men  should  be  always  sage,  calm  and  temperate? 
'  I  am  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  this  comparison  f."  Let 
us  try  if  we  can  drag  him  into  light,  as  unwilling  as*  he  is 
to  see.  The  argument  stands  thus  :— Presumptuous  Man 
complains  of  moral  evil;  Mr.  Pope  checks  and  informs 
him  thus :  The  evil,  says  he,  you  complain  of,  tends  to 
universal  good ;  for  as  clouds,  and  rain,  and  tempest,  are 
necessary  to  preserve  health  and  plenty  in  this  sublunary 
world,  so  the  evils  that  spring  from  disorder'd  passions 
are  necessary.— To  what  ?  Not  to  Mans  happiness  here, 
*  Commentaire,  p,  79.  f  Examen  de  1'Essai,  &c. 

but 


46  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

but  to  the  perfection  of  the  universe  in  general.     So 

that, 

If  plagues  or  earthquakes  break  not  Heaven's  design, 
"Why  then  a  Borgia  or  a  Catiline? 

On  which  the  Examiner  thus  descants, — "  These  lines 
f<  have  no  sense  but  on  the  system  of  Leibnitz,  which 
"  confounds  morals  with  physics;  and  in  which,  all  that 
:'  we  call  pleasures,  grief,  contentment,  inquietude,  wis- 
"  dom,  virtue,  truth,  error,  vices,  crimes,  abominations, 
"  are  the  inevitable  consequence  of  a  fatal  chain  of 
"  things  as  ancient  as  the  world.  But  this  is  it  which 
11  renders  the  system  so  horrible,  that  all  honest  men 
"  must  shudder  at  it.  It  is,  indeed,  sufficient  to  humble 
"  human  nature,  to  reflect  that  this  was  invented  by  a 
"  man,  and  that  other  men  have  adopted  it*."'  This  is, 
indeed,  very  tragical ;  but  we  have  shewn  above,  that  it 
hath  its  sense  on  the  Pldtonic9  not  the  Ldbnitzian  system; 
and  besides,  that  the  context  confines  us  to  that  sense. 

What  hath  misled  the  Examiner  is  his  supposing  the 
comparison  to  be  between  the  effects  of  two  things  in 
this  sublunary  world ;  when  not  only  the  elegancy,  but 
the  justness  of  it  consists  in  its  being  between  the  effects 
of  a  thing  in  the  universe  at  large,  and  the  familiar  and 
known  effects  of  one  in  this  sublunary  world.  For  the 
position  inforced  in  these  lines  is  this,  that  partial  evil 
tends  to  the  good  of  the  whole  : 

Respecting  Man,  whatever  wrong  we  call, 
May,  must  be  right,  as  relative  to  all.     1.  51. 

How  does  the  Pcet  inforce  it  ?  Why,^  if  you  will  believe 
the  Examiner,  by  illustrating  the  effects  of  partial  moral 
evil  in  a  particular  system,  by  that  of  partial  natural 
evil  in  the  some  system,  and  so  leaves  his  position  in  the 
lurch  ;  but  we  must  never  believe  the  great  Poet  reasons 
like  the  Logician.  The  way  to  prove  his  point  he  knew 
was  to  illustrate  the  effect  of  partial  moral  evil  in  the 
universe,  by  partial  natural  evil  in  a  particular  system. 
Whether  partial  moral  evil  tend  to  the  good  of  the  uni 
verse,  being  a  question,  which  by  reason  of  our  ignorance 
of  many  parts  of  that  universe,  we  cannot  decide,  but 
*  Examen  de  1'Essai,  &c. 

from 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          4? 

from  known  effects ;  the  rules  of  argument  require  that 
it  be  proved  by  analogy,  i.  e.  setting  it  by,  and  comparing 
it  with  a  thing  certain ;  and  it  is  a  thing  certain,  that 
partial  natural  evil  tends  to  the  good  of  our  particular 
system.  This  is  his  argument :  And  thus,  we  see,  it 
stands  clear  of  Mr.  De  Crousazs  objection,  and  of 
Leibnitz's  fatalism. 

After  having  inforced  this  analogical  position,  the  Poet 
then  indeed,  in  order  to  strengthen  and  support  it,  em 
ploys  the  same  instance  of  natural  evil,  to  shew  that, 
even  here  to  Man,  as  well  as  to  the  whole,  moral  evil  is 
productive  of  good,  by  the  gracious  disposition  of  Pro 
vidence,  who  turns  it  deviously  from  its  natural  tendency. 

Mr.  Pope  then  adds, 

From  pride,  from  pride,  our  very  reasoning  springs; 
Account  for  moral,  as  for  nat'ral  things : 
Why  charge  we  Heaven  in  those,  in  these  acquit? 
In  both,  to  reason  right,  is  to  submit.     1.  153,  $  seq. 

Our  Commentator  asks — "  Why,  then,  does  Mr.  Pope- 
"  pretend  to  reason  upon  the  matter,  and  rear  his  head 
"  so  high,  and  decide  so  dogmatically,  upon  the  most 
"  important  of  ail  subjects  *  ? "  This  is  indeed  pleasant. 
Suppose  Mr.  De  Crousaz  should  undertake  to  shew  the 
folly  of  pretending  to  penetrate  into  the  mysteries  of 
revealed  religion,  as  here  Mr.  Pope  has  done  of  natural^ 
must  he  not  employ  the  succours  of  reason  ?  And  could 
he  conclude  his  reasonings  with  greater  truth  and  mo 
desty,  than  in  the  words  of  Mr.  Pope  f — To  reason  right, 
is  to  submit. — But  he  goes  on,  "  If  you  will  believe 
"him  [Mr.  Pope]  the  sovereign  perfections  of  the 
"  Eternal  Being  have  inevitably  determined  him  to  create 
"  this  Universe,  because  the  idea  of  it  was  the  most 
"  perfect  of  all  those  which  represented  many  possible 
"  worlds.  Notwithstanding,  there  is  nothing  perfect  in 
"  this  part,  which  is  assigned  for  our  habitation :  it 
"  swarms  with  imperfections ;  it  is  God  who  is  the  cause 
"  of  them,  and  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  contrive  matters 
f  •  otherwise.  The  Poet  had  not  the  caution  to  recur  to 
['  Man's  abuse  of  his  own  free-will,  the  true  source  of 
*'  all  our  miseries,  and  which  are  agreeable  to  that  state 

*  Cpmment£ire?  p.  94. 

"of 


48  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

"  of  disorder  in  which  men  live  by  their  own  fault  *." 
I  will  venture  to  say,  every  part  of  this  reflection  is  false 
and  calumnious.  The  first  part  of  it,  that  the  Eternal 
Being,  according  to  Mr.  Pope,  was  inevitably  determined, 
and  that  he  had  not  power  to  contrive  matters  otherwise, 
I  have  already  shewn  to  be  so*  It  is  still  a  more  un 
pardonable  calumny  to  say  that  Mr.  Pope  has  thrown  the 
cause  of  moral  evil  upon  God,  and  had  not  the  caution 
to  recur  to  Mans  abuse  of  his  own  free-will:  For  Mr. 
De  Crousaz  could  not  but  see  that  the  Poet  had,  in  so 
many  words,  thrown  the  cause  entirely  upon  that  abuse, 
where,  speaking  of  natural  and  moral  Evil,  he  says, 

What  makes  all  physical  and  moral  111  ! 

There  deviates  Nature,  and  here  WANDERS  WILL, 

GOD  SENDS  NOT  ILL.  Ep.  iv.  1.  109,  8g  seq. 

When  he  had  said  this,  and  acquitted  the  Supreme 
Cause,  he  then  informs  us  what  is  God's  agency,  after 
natural  and  moral  evil  had  been  thus  produced  by  the 
deviation  of  nature,  and  depravity  of  will;  namely,  that 
he  hath  so  contrived,  in  his  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness, 
that  i^ood  shall  arise  from  this  evil. 

O 

% 

*  -  If  rightly  understood, 
Or  partial  ill  is  universal  good, 
Or  Chance  admits,  or  Nature  lets  it  fall, 
Short  and  but  rare,  till  Man  improved  it  all. 


And  speaking  in  another  place  of  God's  Providence, 

he  says, 

That  counterworks  each  folly  and  caprice, 
That  disappoints  th'  effects  of  ev'ry  vice. 

Ep.  ii.  1.  229. 

What  is  this  but  bringing  good  out  of  evil  ?  And  how 
distant  is  that  from  being  the  cause  of  eviL- 

After  this,  a  philosopher  should  never  think  of  writing 
more  till  he  had  rectified  what  he  had  already  wrote  so 
much  amiss. 

The  next  passage  the  Examiner  attacks  is  the  fol 


lowing  : 


*  Commentaire,  p.  94,  95. 

Better 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAK          4$ 

Better  for  us,  perhaps,  it  might  appear, 

Were  there  all  harmony,  all  virtue  here; 

That  never  air  or  ocean  ieit  the  wind ; 

That  never  passion  discorripos'd  the  mind  : 

But  all  subsists  by  elemental  strife, 

And  passions  are  the  elements  of  life.     1.  15  7?  $'  stqi 

Here  the  Examiner  Upbraids  Mr.  Pope  for  degrading 
himself  so  far  as  to  wrile  to  the  gross  prejudices  of  the 
people.     "  In  the  corporeal  nature  (says  he?  there  is  no 
"  piece,  of  matte1'  that  is  perfectly  simple;  all  are  com- 
i£  posed   of  sm:\K   particles,    called    elementary;    from 
"  their   mixture,    proceeds    a    fermentation,    sometimes 
"  weak  and  sometimes  strong,  which  still  farther  attenu- 
"  ates  these  particles :  and  thus  agitated  and  divided, 
"  they  serve  for  the  nourishment  and  growth  of  organic 
"  bodies;  to  this  growth  it  is  we  give  the  name  of  life. 
"  But  what  have  the  passions   in  common  with   these 
"  particles?  Do  their  mixture  and  fermentation  serve 
rt  for  the  nourishment  of  that  substance  which  thinks, 
"  and  do  they  constitute   the   life  of  that  substance*?'* 
Thus  Mr.  De  Crousaz,  who,  as,  a  little  before,  he  could 
hot  see  the  nature  of  the  comparison,   so  here,  by  a 
frnore  deplorable  blindness,  could  not  see  that  there  was 
any  comparison  at  all.     "  You,  says  Mr.  Pope,  perhaps 
"  may  think  it  would  be  better,  that  neither  air  nor  ocean 
"  was  vexed  with  tempests,  nor  that  the  mind  was  ever 
"  discomposed  by  passion ;  but  consider,   that  as  in  the 
"  one   case  our  material  system  is   supported    by  the 
"  strife  of  its  elementary  particles,  so  in  the  intellectual 
"  the  passions  of  the  mind  are,  as  it  were,  the  elements 
"  of  human  life,  i.  e.  actions."     All  here  is  clear,  solid, 
and  well-reasoned,   and   hath   been    considered   above. 
What  must  we  say  then  to  our  Examiner  &  wild  talk  of 
the  mixture  and  fermentation  of  elementary  particles  of 
matter  for   the    nourishment  'of  that   substance    that 
thinks,  and  of  its  constituting  the  life  vf  that  substance  f 
I  call  it  the  Examiner's,  for,  you  see;  it  is  not  Mr.  Pope's; 
and  Mr.  Crousaz  ought  to  be  charged  with  it,  because  it 
may  be  questioned  whether  it  was  a  simple  blunder,  he 
urging  it  so  invidiously  as  to  insinuate  that  Mr.  Pofe 

*  Examert  de  1'Essai, 

VOL,  XL  E  might 


50  A  COMMENTARY  OX 

might  probably  hold  the  materiality  of  the  soul  How 
ever,  if  it  was  a  mistake,  it  was  a  pleasant  one,  and  arose 
from  the  ambiguity  of  the  word  life,  which  in  Evglixh,  as 
la  vie  in  French,  signifies  both  existence  and  human 
action,  and  is  always  to  have  its  sense  determined  by  the 
context 

Mr.  Pope  says,  speaking  of  the  brute  creation, 

Nature  to  these,  without  profusion,  kind, 

The  proper  organs,  proper  powers  ass-ign'd.     1.  171. 

Mr.  Crousaz  observes,  that  "  in  this  verse,  by  the  term 
"  Nature,  we  must  necessarily  understand  the  Author  of 
'  Nature]  it  is  a  figure  much  in  use.  SPINOZA  has 
"  employed  all  his  metaphysics  to  confound  these  twcr 
"  significations*."  Therefore,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Pope  must 
not  employ  the  word  at  all,  though  it  be  to  vindicate  it 
from  that  abuse,  by  distinguishing  its  different  signifi 
cations.  But  this  we  are  to  consider  as  a  touch  of  our 
logician's  art.  It  is  what  they  call  argumentum  ad 
iraidlam. 

The  Poet, 

Far  as  Creation's  ample  range  extends,      • 
The  scale  of  sensual,  mental  powers  ascends  r 
Mark  how  it  mounts  to  Maris  imperial  race, 
From  the  green  myriads  in  the  peopled  grass. 

Ep.  i.  1.  199,  <§'  scq. 

On  this  the  Commentator,  "That  place  of  honour, 
"  which  the  Poet  has  refused  to  Man  in  another  part  of 
"  his  Epistle,  he  gives  him  here,  because  it  serves  to 
"  embellish  and  perfect  the  gradation.  At  every  step 
(  Mr.  Pope  forgets  one  of  those  principal  and  most 
"  essential  rules,  which  Mr.  DCS  Carles  lays  down  in  his 
"  method',  that  is,  exactly  to  review  what  one  asserts,  so 
"  that  no  part  be  found  to  be  gratis  dictum*  nor  flfc 
<•  whole  repugnant  to  itself f."  This  we  are  to  under 
stand,  as  said,  &#X«c7«e5?.  But  I  shall  beg  leave  to 
observe,  that  our  logician  here  gives  his  lessons  very 
impertinently.  For,  that  Mr.  Pope,  in  calling  the  race 
rf  Man  imperial,  hath  bestowed  no  title  on  him  in  this 
place,  which  he  had  denied  him  elsewhere.  He,  with 
*  Comment-lire,  p.  99.  -j-  Ibid,  p.  loS. 

great 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          51 

great  piety  and  prudence,  supposes  what  the  Scripture 
tells  us  to  be  true,  that  Man  was  created  lord  of  this 
inferior  world',  he  supposes  it,  I  say,  in  these  lines  of 
this  very  Epistle: 

Without  this  just  gradation  could  they  be 
Subjected  these  to  those,  and  all  to  thee  ? 
The  powers  of  all  subdued  by  thee  alone, 
Is  not  thy  reason  all  those  powers  in  one  ? 

1.  221,  &;  seq.  ' 

He  expressly  asserts  it  in  the  third  Epistle : 

Heaven's  attribute  was  universal  care, 

And  Mans  prerogative  to  rule,  but  spare.    J.  1 60. 

And  this,  in  the  very  place  where  he  gives  the  description 
of  man  in  paradise. 

What  misled  our  Critic  so  far  as  to  imagine  Mr.  Pope 
had  here  contradicted  himself  was,  I  suppose,  such 
passages  as  these  : 

Ask  for  what  end  the  heavenly  bodies  shine,  8$c. 
And  again,: 

Has  God,  thou  fool !  worked  solely  for  thy  good,  8$c. 

But  in  truth  this  is  so  far  from  a  contradiction  to  what 
was  said  before  of  Mans  prerogative,  that  it  is  a  con 
firmation  of  it,  and  of  what  the  Scripture  tells  us  con 
cerning  it.  And  because  this  matter  has  been  mistaken, 
to  the  discredit  of  the  Poet's  religious  sentiments,  by 
readers,  whom  the  conduct  of  certain  licentious  writers, 
treating  this  subject  in  an  abusive  way,  hath  rendered 
jealous  and  mistrustful,  I  shall  endeavour  to  explain  it. 
Scripture  says,  that  Man  was  made  lord  of  all.  But 
this  lord,  become,  at  length,  intoxicated  with  pride^  the 
common  effect  of  sovereignty,  erected  himself,  like  par 
ticular  rnonarchs,  into  a  tyrant.  And  as  tyranny  con 
sists  in  supposing  ail  made  fcr  the  use  of  one ;  he  took 
those  freedoms  with  all,  that  are  consequent  on  such  a 
principle.  He  soon  began  to  consider  the  whole  animal 
creation  as  his  slaves,  rather  than  his  subjects-,  as  being 
created  for  no  use  of  their  own,  but  for  his  ©nly ;  and 
therefore  used  them  with  the  utmost  barbarity :  and  not 
so  content ;  to  add  insult  to  his  cruelty,  he  endeavoured 

E  2  to 


52  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

to  philosophise  himself  into  an  opinion,  that  animals 
were  mere  machines,  insensible  of  pain  or  pleasure. 
And  thus,  as  Mr.  Pope  says,  Man  affected  to  be  the  wvY, 
as  well  as  tyrant  of  the  whole*.  Our  Commentator  can 
tell  us  what  deep  philosopher  it  was  that  invented  this 
•witty  system,  and  by  the  assistance  of  what  METHOD  so 
wonderful  a  discovery  was  brought  to  light.  It  became 
then  one  who  adhered  to  the  Scripture  account  of  Mans 
dominion,  to  reprove  this  abuse  of  it,  and  to  shew  that, 

Heaven's  attribute  was  universal  care, 
And  Mans  prerogative  to  ride,  BUT  SPARE. 

The  poetical  Translator  f  has  turned  the  words,  to  Maris 
imperial  race,  by 

Jusqu'a  I'Hornme,  ce  chef,  ce  roy  de  runivers  ! 
Even  to  Man,  this  head,  this  king  of  the  universe. 

Which  is  so  sad  a  blunder,  that  it  contradicts  Mr.  Pope's 
whole  system.  Who,  although  he  allows  Man  to  be 
king  of . this  inferior  world,  is  far  from  thinking  him  king 
of  the  universe.  If  the  system  itself  could  not  teach 
him  this,  yet  methinks  the  following  lines  pf  this  very 
Epistle  might : 

So  Man,  who  here  seems  principal  alone, 

Perhaps  acts  second  to  some  sphere  unknown.     1.  57. 

If  the  Translator  imagined  Mr.  Pope  was  here  speaking 
ironically,  where  he  talks  of  Mans  imperial  race,  and  so 
would  heighten  the  ridicule  by  ce  roy  de  runivers,  the 
mistake  is  still  worse ;  the  force  of  the  argument  depend 
ing  upon  its  being  said  seriously.  For  the  Poet  is 
speaking  of  a  scale,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  in 
the  mundane  system. 

But  now  we  come  to  the  famous  passage  which  is  to 
fix  the  charge : 

All  are  but  parts  of  one  stupendous  whole, 
Whose  body  Nature  is,  and  God  the  soul. 
That,  chang'd  through  all,  and  yet  in  all  the  same, 
Great  in  the  earth  as  in  th'  etheiial  frame, 

*  Grant  that  the  powerful  still  the  weak  controul, 

Be  Man  the  wit  and  tyrant  of  the  whole.          Ep.  iii.  54* 
f  M.  L'Abhe  du  Kesnel. 

Warms 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          53 

Warms  in  the  sun,  refreshes  in  the  breeze, 
Glows  in  the  scars,  and  blossoms  in  the  trees, 
Lives  through  all  lite,  extends  through  all  extent, 
Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent, 
Breathes  in  our  soul,  informs  our  mortal  part, 
As  full,  as  perfect,  in  a  hair  as  heart; 
As  full,  as  perijct,  in  vile  Man  that  mourns, 
As  the  rapt  Seraph  that  adores  and  burns: 
To  him  no  high,  no  low,  no  great,  no  small; 
lie  fills,  he  bounds,  connects,  and  equals  all. 

Ep  i.  1.  259,  . 

On  which  our  Examiner,  blind  to  the  light  of  reason,  as 
well  as  etc/if  to  tit;  channs  of  harmony — A  Spiricziat 
(says  he;  would  e.ipi\:.<s  himself  in  this  manner*.  I  be 
lieve  he  would,  and  so  would  St.  Paul  too,  writing  on 
the  same  subject,  namely,  the  omnipresence  of  God  in 
his  providence,  and  in  his  subsiunce.  In  him  we  live 
and  wove,  ami  hare  our  being  \ ;  /'.  e.  we  are  parts  of  him, 
hi*  offspring^  as  the  Greek  poet  a  Pantheist^  quoted  by 
the  apostle,  observes :  and  the  reason  is,  because  a  re-  j 
ligious  thctot,  and  an  impious  Pantheist,  both  profess  to 
believe  the  omnipresence  of  God.  But  would  Spinoza, 
as  Mr.  Pope  does,  call  God  the  great  directing  mind  of 
(ill,  who  hath  intentionally  created  a  perfect  universe  J  ?" 
Or  would  Mr.  Pope,  like  Spinoza,  say  there  is  but  one 
universal  substance  in  the  universe,  apd  that  blind  too? 
We  know  Spinoza  would  not  say  the  first;  and  we  ought 
not  to  think  Mr.  Pope  would  say  the  latter,  because  he 
says  the  direct  contrary  throughout  the  Poem.  Now  it 
is  this  latter  only  that  is  Spinozism. 

But  this  sublime  description  of  the  Godhead  contains 
not  only  the  divinity  of  St.  Paul\  but,  if  that  wjll  not 
satisfy,  |he  philosophy  likewise  of  Sir  haac  Newton, 
The  Poet  says, 

All  are,  but  parts  of  one  stupendous  whole, 
Whose  body  Nature  is,  and  God  the  soul. 

*  Examen  de  1'Essai, 

t  for  in  htm  we  tree  and  JPO.I •( •,  find  have  ovr  being ;  as  certain  aho  of 
ym>*  own  Poets  hate  said:  For  ue  are  also  his  ojf  spring*  Acts  xvii.  28, 
J  For  that  ig  the  meaning  of 

All  Nature  is  but  art,  unknown  to  thee; 

All  chance,  direction  which  thou  canst  not  se^. 

E  3  the 


54  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

The  Philosopher,  "  Deus  omniprassens  est,  non  per 
"  virtutem  solam,  sed  etiam  per  SUBSTANTIAM  :  narn 
"  virtus  sine  substantia  subsistere  non  potest*." 

Mr.  Pope, 

That,  chang'd  through  all,  and  yet  in  all  the  same, 
Great  in  the  earth  as  in  th'  etherial  frame,  * 
Warms  in  the  sun,  refreshes  in  the  breeze, 
Glows  in  the  stars,  and  blossoms  in  the  trees, 
Lives  through  all  life,  extends  through  all  extent, 
Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent. 

Sir  Isaac  Newton — "  In  ipso  continentur  et  moventur 
"  universa,  sed  abxque  miitua  passione.  Deus  nihil  pa- 
"  tltur  ex  corporiim  motibus ;  ilia  nullam  senthmt  resis- 
"  tentiom  ex  omni-prsesentia  Dei.- — Corpore  omni  et 
"  figura  covporea  desthuiturf. — Omnia  rcgit  et  omnia 
"  cognoscit. — Cum  unaquaeque  spatii  particula  sit'sewper, 
"  et  unumquodque  durationis  indivisibile  momentum, 
"  ubique,  certe  rjerum  omnium  fabricator  ac  dominus 
"  non  erit  nunquam,  nusquam\" 

Mr.  Pope, 

Breathes  in  our  soul,  informs  our  mortal  part, 
As  full,  as  perfect,  in  a  hair  as  heart ; 
As  full,  as  perfect,  in  vile  Man  that  mourns, 
As  the  rapt  Seraph  that  adores  and  burns : 
To  him  no  high,  no  low,  no  great,  no  small; 
He  fills,  he  bounds,  connects,  and  equals  all. 

Sir  Isaac  Newton — "  Annon  ex  pha?nomenis  constaf 
"  esse  entem  incorporeum,  -viventem,  intelligentem,  om- 
"  nipraesentem,  qui  in  spatio  infinito,  tanquam  sensorio 
"  suo,  res  ipsas  intime  cernat,  penitusque  perspiciat, 
"  toiasquc  intra  se  prtesens  prcesentes  compleetatur^ 

But  now  admitting,  for  argument's  sake,  that  there  was 
an  ambiguity  in  these  expressions,  so  great,  as  that  a 
Spinozist  mi^ht  employ  them  to  express  his  own  particular 
principles ;  and  such  a  thing  might  well  be,  without  any 

*  Nt-wtoni  Principia  Schol.  gcner.  sub  finem. 
f  Id.  ib,         I  Id.  ib.         §  Opticre  Quasst.  20. 

reflection 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          55 

reflection  on  the  PocCs  religion,  or  exactness  as  a  writer, 
because  it  h  none  on  the  apostles,  who  actually  did  that 
which  Mr.  Pope  is  not  only  falsely,  bi.it,  as  we  see  from 
this  instance,  foolishly  accused  of  doing,  and  because 
the  Spinozisls,  in  order  to  hide  the  impiety  of  their  prin 
ciple,  are  used  to  express,  the  omnipresence  of  God  in 
terms  that  any  religious  theist  might  employ  :  in  this 
case,  I  say,  how  are  we  to  judge  of  the  Poets  meaning  ? 
Surely  by  the  whole  tenor-  of  his  argument  Now  take 
the  words  in  the  sense  of  the  Sphiozists,  and  he  is  made, 
in  tiie  conclusion  of  his  Epistle,  to  overthrow  all  he  has 
been  advancing  throughout  the  body  of  it :  for  Sfirio?is?% 
is  t.ae  destruction  of  an  universe,  where  every  tiling  tends, 
by  a  foreseen  contrivance  in  all  its  parts,  to  the  perfection 
of  the  whole.  But  allow  him  to  employ  trie  passage  in 
the  sense  of  St.  Paul,  that  He  and  cdl  creatures  live  and 
•move,  and  have  our  being  hi  God,  and  then  it  will  be 
seen  to  be  the  most  logical  support  of  all  th  it  haxl  pre 
ceded.  For  the  Poet  having,  as  we  say,  laboured  through 
his  Epistle,  to  prove  that  every  thing  in  the  universe 
tends,  by  a  foreseen  contrivance,  and  a  present  direction 
of  all  its  parts,  to  the  perfection  of  the  ickok ;  it  i 
be  objected  that  such  a  disposition  of  things  implying 
in  God  a  painful,  operose,  and  inconceivable  extent  of 
providence,  it  could  not  be  supposed  that"  such  care 
extended  to  all,  but  was  confined  to  the  more  noble 
parts  of  the  Creation.  This  gross  .conception  of  the 
Jirst  cause,  the  Poet  exposes,  by  shewing  that  God  is 
equally  and  intimately  present  to  every  particle  of  mat 
ter,  to  every  sort  of  substance,  and  in  every  instant  of 
being. 

And  how  truly,  may  be  seen  by  the  Inqwrr,  into  the 
Nature  of  the  human  Soul,  v\  rote  expressly  against  Sj)i* 
pozism,  where  the  excellent  author  "has  shewn  the  neces 
sity  of  the  immediate  wjiyenke  oj  God.  in  every  moment 
ot  time,  to  keep  matter  irom  failing  back  into  its  primitive 
nothing. 

The  Examiner  goes  on:  " :  Mr.  Pope  hath  reason  to 
"call  this  whole,  a  stupendous  whole ;  nothing  being 
"  more  paradoxical  and  incredible,  it  we  take  his  de- 
"  scriptioi}  literal  1  v  *:."  1  will  add,  nor  nothing  more  so 

tie  1'Essai, 

4  than 


56  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

than  St.  Paul's,  in  him  we  lire  and  more,  and  hare  our, 
b^ng,  if  taken  Literally.  I  have  met  with  one  who  took 
it  so  and  from  thence  concluded,  with  great  reach  of 
M'it,  that  SPACE  was  GOD. 

But  Mr.  Pope  having  said  of  God,  that  he, 
Breathes  in  our  soul,  informs  our  mortal  part, 
As  full,  as  perfect,  in 'a  hair  as  heart:" 

the  Commentator  remarks,  that  ;<  one  should  make  a 
"  criminal  abuse  of  these  pompous  expressions,  if  once 
"  launched  out,  with  SPINOZA,  to  confound  the  substance 
"  of  God  with  our  own ;  and  to  imagine  tnat  the 
"  substance  of  what  \ve  call  creature,  is  the  same  with 
"  that  Being's,  to  yl  j'ch  we  give  the  name  of  Creator'*" 
Spinoza  is  still  the  burthen  of  the  song.  To  cut  this 
matter  short,  we  shall  taeiefore  give  Mr.  Pope's  own 
plain  words  and  sentiments,  in  a  lino  of  this  very  Essay, 
that  overturn  all  $pinozi#rn  from  its  very  foundations  : 
where,"  speaking  of  what  common  seme  'taught  mankind, 
before  false  sense  had  depraved  the  understanding,  he 

THE    WORKER      FROM     THE     WORK     DISTINCT     W7AS 

And  simple  reason  never  sought  but  one.  [KNOWN, 

Ep.  iii.  1.  230. 

But  the  Commentator  is,  at  every  turn,  crying  out, 
A  follower  of  Spinoza  would  express  himself  just  so. 
I  believe  he  might ;  and  sure  Mr.  Crousaz  could  not  be 
ignorant  of  the  reason.  It  being  so  well  known  that  that 
unhappy  man,  the  better  to  disguise  his  atheism,  covered 
it  with  such  expressions  as  kept  it  long  concealed  even 
from  those  friends  and  acquaintance  with  whom  he  most 
intimately  corresponded.  Ilence  it  must  necessarily  hap 
pen,  that  every  the  best  intentioned,  most  religious  writer 
\yilleinploy  many  phrases,  that  a  Spinozist  would  use,  irj 
the  explanation  of  his  impiety. 

To  persist,  therefore,  from  henceforth,  in  this  accu 
sation,  v»  ill  deserve  a  name,  which  it  is  not  my  business 
to  bestow, 

Mr.  Pope  concludes  thus ; 

Cease  then,  nor  order  imperfection  name : 

Our  proper  [jliss  depends  on  what  we  blaine. 

•*  Commentaire, 

Know 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          57 

Know  thy  own  point :  this  kind,  this  due  degree 

.Of  blindness,  weakness,  heaven  bestows  on  thee. 

Submit.— In  this,  or  any  other  sphere, 

Secure  to  be  as  blest  as  thou  canst  bear : 

Safe  in  the  hand  of  one  disposing  power, 

Or  in  the  natal,  or  the  mortal  hour.     1.  273,  fy  scq* 

•'"  The  heart  gives  itself  up  (says  Mr.  De  Crousaz)  to 
"  the  magnificence  of  these  words. — But  I  ask  Mr.  Pope, 
"  with  regard  £o  such  consolatory  ideas,,  whether  he  was 
"  not  beholden,  in  some  measure,  to  religion  for  them  *r" 
This  is  in  the  true  spirit  of  modern  controversy. — Our 
logician  had  taken  it  into  his  head,  that  the  Poet  had  no 
religion;  though  he  does  riot  pretend  his  proofs  rise 
higher  than  to  a  legitimate  suspicion ;  and  finding  here 
a  passage  that  spoke  plainly  to  the  contrary,  instead  of 
retracting  that  ra'sh  uncharitable  opinion,  he  would  turn 
this  very  evidence  of  his  own  mistake  into  a  new  proof 
for  the -support  of  it;  and  so  insinuate,  you  see,  that 
Mr.  Pope  had  here  contradicted  himself.  He  then 
preaches,  for  two  pages  together,  on  the  passage,  and 
ends  in  these  words  :  "  From  all  this  1  conclude,  that 
"  the  verses  in  question  are  altogether  edifying  in  the 
c"'  mouth  of  an  honest  man,  but  that  they  give"  scandal 
"  and  appear  profane  in  the  mouth  of  an  ill  onef/' 
How  exactly  can  Rome  and  Geneva  jump  on  occasion ! 
So  the  conclave  adjudged,  that  those  propositions,  which 
in  the  mouth  of  St.  Austin  were  altogether  ediiying,  be 
came  scandalous  and  profane  in  the  mouth  of  Jansenius. 

But  the  Examiner'  pursues  the  Poet  to  the  very  end, 
and  cavils  even  at  those  lines,  which  might  have  set  him 
right  in  his  mistakes  about  the  sense  of  all  the  rest 

All  Nature  is  but  art,  unknown  to  thee; 

All  chance,  direction -which  thou  canst  not  see; 

All  discord,  harmony  not  understood ; 

All  partial  evil,  umrersal  good  \ 

And,  spite  of  pride,  in  erring  reason's  spite, 

One  truth  is  clear,  Whatever  is,  is  in  GUT. 

"  See  (says  our  Examimr}  Mr.  Popes  general  conclusion, 

"  all  that  £y,  is  right.     So  that  at  the  sight  of  Charles 

•  f*  the   First  losing  his  head  on  the  'scaffold,  Sir.  Pope 

.?  Commentaire,  p.  124,  1-25.  f  Ib,  p.  127. 


"  must 


£8  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

"  must  have  said,  this  is  right ;  at  the  sight  too  of  his 

"judges  condemning  him,  he   must  have  said,  this  is 

t ;  at   the  sight  of  some   of  these  /judges,  taken 

"  and  condemned  for  the  action  which  he  had  owned  to 

u  be  right,  he  must  have  cried  out,  this  is -doubly  right*" 

How  unaccountable  is  this  perverseness  !  "Mr.  Pope, 

in  this  very  Epistle,  has  himself  thus  explained  Whatever 

is,  is  right, 

Respecting  Man,  whatever  wrong  we  call, 

May,  mast  be  right,  as  relative  to  all, 

— So  Alan,  who  here  seems  principal  alone, 

Perhaps  acts  second  to  some  sphere  unknown, 

1  ouches  some  wheel,  or  verges  to  some  goal ; 

>rris  but  a  part  we  see,  and  not  a  whole.     1.  51,$  seq* 

But  it  is  amazing  that  the  absurdities  arising  from  the 
sense  in  which  the  Examiner  takes  -Mr.  Pcpcs  grand 
principle,  Whatever  is,  is  right,  could  not  shew  him  his 
mi-take:  for  could  any  one  in  his  senses  employ  a  pro 
position  in  a  meaning  from  whence  such  evident  absur 
dities  immediately  arise?  I  had  observed,  that  this 
conclusion  of  Mr.  Popes,  that  w/Mtever  is,  is  right,  is 
a  consequence  of  his  principle,  that  partial  ciil  tends  to 
universal  good.  Ihis  shews  us  the  only  sense  in  which 
the  proposition  can  be  understood,  namely,  that 
WHATEVER  IS,  IS  RIGHT,  WITH  REGARD 
TO  THE  DISPOSITION  OF  GOD,  AND  TO 
ITS  ULTIMATE  TENDENCY.  Now  is  this  any 
encouragement  to  vice?  Or  does  it  take  otf  from  the 
crime  of  him  who  commits  it,  that  God  providentially 
produces  good  out  of  evil?  Had  Mr.  Pope  abruptly  said 
in  his  conclusion,  the  result  of  all  is,  that  whatever  is, 
is  right,  Mr.  Be  Crousaz  had  even  then  been  inexcus 
able  for  putting  so  absurd  a  sense  upon  the  words,  when 
he  might  have  seen  that  it  was  a  conclusion  from  the 
general  principle  above-mentioned;  and  therefore  must 
necessarily  have  another  meaning.  But  what  must  we 
think  of  him  ?  when  the  Poet,  to  prevent  mistakes,  had 
delivered  in  this  very  place,  the  principle  itself,  together 
with  this  conclusion  as  the  consequence  of  it; 

*  Examen  de  I'Eesai, 

AH 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          59 

All  discord,  harmony  not  understood ; 

ALL  partial  evil,  universal  good ; 

And  spite  of  pride,  in  erring  reason's  spite, 

One  truth  is  clear,  tVhatever  is,  is  right. 
I  cannot  see  how  he  could  have  told  his  reader  plainer, 
that  thi-s  conclusion  was  the  consequence  of  that  prin 
ciple,  unless  he  had  wrote  THEREFORE,    in  great 
church  letters. 

Thus  have  I  gone  through  what  I  found  material  in 
Mr.  De  Crousazs  Examen  and  Commentary  on  the  first 
Epistle :  I  will  only  observe,  that  he  has,  in  several 
places,  charged  Mr.  Pope  with  pretended  absurdities  and 
impieties,  for  which  his  free  Translator  *  is  only  answer 
able.  But  as  he  professes  not  to  understand  English, 
those  things  might  have  been  passed  over,  had  he  not 
had,  at  the  same  time,  a  very  exact  and  excellent  trans 
lation  in  prose  '(*,  by  which  he  might  have  discovered  the 
mistakes  of  the  other.  Notwithstanding  that,  he  has 
chosen  to  follow  a  version  abounding  in  absurdities; 
because-it  gave  him  frequent  opportunity  to  calumniate. 
On  this  account  therefore,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  give  an 
instance  or  two  of  these  confederate  misrepresentations, 
as  a  specimen  of  this  part  of  the  performance,  likewise. 

The  Translator  says, 

II  ne  desire  point  cette  celeste  flame, 

Qui  des  purs  seraphins  devore,  et  nourrit  Tame  J. 

That  is,  the  savage  does  not  desire  that  heavenly  fame, 
which)  at  the  same  time  that  it  devours  the  souls  of  pure 
fcraphims,  nourishes  them.  Mr.  De  Crousaz  remarks: 
*c  Mr.  Pope,  by  exalting  the  fire  of  his  poetry  by  an 
"  antithesis,  throws,  occasionally,  his  ridicule  on  those 
"  heavenly  spirits.  The  Indian,  says  the  Poet,  contents 
"  himself  without  any  thing  of  that  flame,  which  devours 
."  at  the  same  time  that  it  nourishes."  But  Mr.  Pope  is 
altogether  free  from  this  imputation ;  nothing  can  be 
more  grave  or  sober  than  his  English  on  'this  occasion: 

To  be,  contents  his  natural  desire ; 

lie  asks  no  angel's  wing  or  seraph's  fire.     1.  105. 

*  Mr.  Resnel.  -\  By  Mr.  De  Silhouette. 

|  Coinmentaire,  p.  77. 

But 


60  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

But  neither,  I  dare  say,  did  the  Translator  mean  any 
thing  of  ridicule  in  his  devcre  $  nourrit  fame.  It  is 
the  sober  solid  jargon  of  the  schools;  and  Mr.  t'Abbc 
no  douht  had  frequently  heard  it  from  the  benches  of  the 
Sorbonne.  Indeed  had  a  writer  like  Mr.  Pope  used  such 
an  expression,  one  might  have  suspected  that  he  was  not 
so  serious  as  he  should  be. 

Tli3  Poet,  speaking  of  God's  omnipresence,  says, 
As  full,  as  perfect,  in  vile  Man  that  mourns, 
As  the  rapt  Seraph  that  adores  and  burns.     1.  269. 
Which  Mr.  I 'Abbe  has  thus  translated, 

Dans  un  homme  ignore  sous  une  humble  chaumiere, 
Que  dans  le  seraphin,  ray on nan t  de  lumiere  *. 

That  is,  as  well  in  the  ignorant  man,  who  inhabits  an 
humble  cottage,  as  in  the  seraphim  encompassed  with  rays 
oj  light.  Our  Frenchman here,  in  good  earnest,  thought, 
that  a  vile  man  that  mourned  could  be  none  but  some 
poor  inhabitant  of  a  country  cottage.  Which  has  be 
trayed  Mr.  De  Crousaz  into  this  important  remark : 
*'  For  all  that,  we  sometimes  find  in  persons  of  the  lowest 
"  rank,  a  fund  of  probity  and  resignation,  that  preserves 
"  them  from  contempt ;  their  minds  are  indeed  but  nar- 
"  row,  yet  fitted  to  their  station/'  §c.  But  Mr.  Pope 
had  no  such  childish  idea  in  his  head.  He  was  opposing 
here  the  human  species  to  the  angelic,  ana  so  spoke  of 
that,  when  compared  to  this,  as  vile  and  disconsolate. 
The  force  and  beauty  of  the  reflection  depend  on  this 
sense,  and,  \\hatis  more,  the  propriety  of  it;  and  it  is 
amazing  that  neither  the  Translator  nor  the  Critic  could 
see  it.  There  are  many  mistakes  ol  this  nature,  both  of 
one  and  the  other,  throughout  the  Translation  and  the 
Commentary,  which  perhaps  we  may  have  occasion  to 
take  notice  of  as  we  proceed. 

Jn  a  wyrd,  if  it  were  of  such  Men  as  our  Commen 
tator  that  Mr.  Pope  speaks,  \\hen  he  expresses  his  con 
tempt  for  modern  philosophers,  he  might  well  say. 
Yes,  I  despise  the  Man  to  books  confined, 
Who  from  his  study  rails  at  human  kind. 
Though  what  he  learns  he  speaks,  and  may  advance, 
Some  general  maxims,  or  be  right  by  chance. 
* "Commentairp,  p.  120. 

LETTER 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN. 


LETTER    IL 

HARD  hath  been  the  fate  of  our  great  Countryman, 
to  fall  into  the  hands  of  such  a  Critic  and  Trans- 
lator.  We  have  already  seen  how  Mr.  De  Crousaz  hath 
discharged  himself.  I  now  turn  to  M.  VAbbe  du  Resncl, 
whose  sufficiency  at  least  equals  the  malice  and  calumny 
of  the  other  ;  and  is  attended  with  just  the  same  issue. 

I  have  shewn,  in  my  first  Letter,  that  this  noble  pro 
duction  of  human  wit  and  reason  is  as  singular  for  its 
philosophical  exactness  of'  method,  as  for  its  poetical 
sublimity  of  style. 

Yet  hear  how  our  Translator  descants  upon  the  matter: 
"  The  only  reason  for  which  this  Poem  can  be  properly 
"  termed  an  Essay,  is,  that  the  Author  has  not  formed 
"  his  plan  with  all  the  regularity  of  method  which  it 
"  might  have  admitted." — And  again — "  I  would  not 
"  willingly  have  made  use,  in  my  version.,  of  any  other 
"  liberties  than  such  as  the  Author  himself  must  have 
"  taken,  had  he  attempted  a  French  translation  of  his 
"  own  Work  ;  but  I  was  by  the  unanimous  opinion  of  all 
<c  those  whom  I  have  consulted  on  this  occasion,  and, 
"  amongst  these,  of  several  Englishmen,  completely 
"  skilled  in  both  languages,  obliged  to  follow  a  different 
"  method.  The  French  are  not  satisfied  with  sentiments 
"  however  beautiful,  unless  they  are  methodically  dis- 
"posed-,  method  being  the  characteristic  that  distin- 
"  guishes  cur  performances  from  those  cf  our  neighbours, 
"  and  almost  the  only  excellence  which  they  agree  to 
"  allow  us.  That  Mr.  Pope  did  not  think  hun$eif  con- 
"  fined  to  a  regular  plan,  I  have  already  observed.  I 
"  have  therefore,  by  a  necessary  compliance  with  our 
"  taste,  divided  it  into  jive  cantos  */'  But  the  Reader 
will  see  presently,  that  our  Translator  was  so  far  from 
being  ab!e  to  judge  of  Mr.  Pope's  method,  that  h6  did  not 
even  understand  either  his  subject  or  his  sense,  on  which 
all  method  is  to  be  regulated. 

For  I  now  come  to  the  Poef  s  second  Epistle.    He  had 

*  See  the  English  Translation  of  his  Preface. 

shev  n. 


6s  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

shewn,  fn  the  first,  that  the  ways  of  G  od  are  too  high 
for  our  comprehension ;  whence  he  rightly  concludes, 
that 

The  proper  study  of  Mankind  is  Man. 

This  ccndusion,  from  the  reasoning  of  the  first  Epistle, 
he  methodically  makes  the  subject  of  his  introduction  to 
the  second',  which  treats  of  Mate's  nature.  But  here, 
immediately  the  accusers  of  Providence  would  be  apt  to 
object,  and  say,  ct  Admit  that  we  had  run  into  an  ex- 
il  treme,  while  we  pretended  to  censure  or  penetrate  the 
"  designs  of  Providence,  a  matter  indeed  too  high  for 
"  us ;  yet  have  you  gone  as  far  into  the  opposite,  while 
"  you  only  send  us  to  the  knowledge  of  ourselves.  You 
"  must  mock  us  when  you  talk  of  this  as  a  study ;  for 
*c  sure  we  are  intimately  acquainted  with  ourselves. 
"  The  proper  conclusion  therefore  from  your  demon- 
"  stration  of  our  inability  to  coL-rorehend  the  ways  of 
"  GOD,  is,  that  we  should  turn  ourselves  to  the  study  of 
•"  the  frame  of  NATURE."  Thus,  I  say,  would  they  be 
apt  to  object ;  for  there  are  no  sort  of  men  more  elate 
with  pride  than  these  freethinkers ;  the  effects  of  which 
the  Poet  hath  so  well  exposed  in  his  Jirst  Epistle,  espe-* 
cially  that  kind  of  pride,  which  consists  in  a  boasted 
knowledge  of  their  own  nature.  Hence  we  see  the 
general  argument  of  the  late  books  against  religion  turns 
on  a  supposed  inconsistency  between  revelation,  and 
what  they  presume  to  call- the  eternal  dictates  of  human 
nature.  The  Poet,  therefore,  to  convince  them  that 
this  study  is  less  easy  than  they  imagine,  replies  [from 
1.  2  to  19]  to  the  first  part  of  the  objection,  by  de 
scribing  the  dark  and  feeble  state  of  the  human  under- 
standing,  with  regard  to  the  knowledge  of  ourselves :  and 
farther,  to  strengthen  this  argument,  he  shews,  in  answer 
to  the  second  part  of  the  objection  [from  1.  1 8  to  3 1  ] 
that  the  highest  advances  in  natural  knowledge  may  be 
easily  acquired,  and  yet  we  all  the  while  continue  very 
ignorant  of  ourselves.  For  that  neither  the  clearest 
science,  which  results  from  the  Newtonian  philosophy, 
nor  the  most  sublime,  which  is  taught  by  the  Platonic, 
will  at  all  assist  us  in  this  self-study  •,  nay,  what  is  more, 
that  religion  itself,  s\  hen  grown  fanatical  and  enthusiastic^ 
1 1  will 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          63 

will  be  equally  useless :  though  pure  and  sober  religion 
will  best  instruct  us  in  Man's  nature,  that  knowledge 
being  essential  to  religion,  whose  subject  is  Man,  con 
sidered  in  all  his  relations,  and  consequently  whose  olytct 
is  God. 

To  give  this  second  argument  its  full  force,  he  illus 
trates  it  [from  1.  30  to  43]  by  the  noblest  example  that 
ever  was  in  science,  the  incomparable  NEWTOX,  whom 
he  makes  so  superior  to  humanity,  as  to  represent  the 
angelic  beings  in  doubt,  when  they  observed  him  of  late 
unfold  all  the  law  of  Nature,  whether  he  was  not  to  be 
reckoned  in  their  number  ;  just  as  men,  when  they  see  the 
surprising  marks  of  reason  in  an  ape,  are  almost  tempted 
to  think  him  of  their  own  species.  Yet  this  wondrous 
creature,  who  saw  so  far  into  the  works  of  Nature,  could 
go  no  farther  in  human  knowledge,  than  the  generality 
of  his  kind.  For  which  the  Poet  assigns  this  very  just 
and  adequate  cause  :  in  all  other  sciences,  the  under 
standing  is  unchecked  and  uncontrolled  by  any  oppo 
site  principle ;  but  in  the  science  of  Man,  the  passions 
overturn,  as  fast  as  reason  can  build  up. 

Alas,  what  wonder !  Man's  superior  part 
Uncheck'd  may  rise,  and  climb  from  art  to  art; 
But  when  his  own  great  work  is  but  begun, 
What  reason  weaves,  by  passion  is  undone. 

This  is  a  brief  account  of  the  Poet's  fine  reasoning  in 
his  Introduction.  The  whob  of  which  his  poetical  Trans 
lator  lias  so  miserably  mistaken,  that,  of  one  of  the  most 
strong  and  best  connected  arguments,  he  has  rendered  it 
the  most  obscure  and  inconsistent,  which  even  the  officious 
Commentator  could  scarce  make  worse  by  his  important 
and  candid  remarks. — Thus  beautifully  does  Mr.  Pope 
describe  Man's  weakness  and  blindness,  with  regard  to 
his  own  nature  : 

— Placed  on  this  isthmus  of  a  middle  state, 
A  being  darkly  wise,  and  rudely  great  ; 
With  too  much  knowledge  for  the  sceptic  side, 
With  too  much  weakness  for  the  Stoic's  pride, 
He  hangs  between ;  in  doubt  to  act,  or  rest; 
In  doubt  to  deem  himself  a  god,  or  beast; 

In 


64  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

In  doubt,  his  mind,  or  body  to  prefer, 
Born  but  to  die,  and  reasoning  but  to  err. 

And  as  he  hath  given  this  description  of  Man,  for  the! 
very  contrary  purpose  to  which  sceptics  are  wont  to 
employ  such  kind  of  paintings,  namely,  not  to  deter  men 
from  the  search,  but  to  excite  them  to  the  discovery  of 
truth  ;  he  hath,  with  great  judgment,  represented  man 
as  doubting  and  wavering  between  the  right  and  tworig 
object;  from  which  state  there  are 'great  hopes  he  may  be 
relieved  by  a  careful  and  circumspect  use  of  reason.  On 
the  contrary,  had  he  Supposed  Man  so  blind  as  to  be 
busied  in  chusing,  or  doubtful  in  his  choice,  between  two' 
objects  equally  wrong,  the  case  had  appeared  desperate  : 
and  all  study  of  Man  had  been  effectually  discouraged. 
But  his  Translator  not  seeing  into  the  force  arid  beauty 
of  this  conduct,  hath  run  into  the  very  absurdity  I  have 
here  shewn  Mr.  Pope  hath  so  artfully  avoided. 

The  Poet  says,  , 

Man  hangs  between;  in  doubt  to  ACT,  or  REST. 

Now  he  tells  us  'tis  Man's  duty  to  act,  not  to  rest,  as  the 
Stoics  thought ;  and  to  their  principle  this  latter  word 
alludes,  lie  having  just  before  mentioned  that  sect*,  whose* 
virtue,  as  he  says,  is 

- — fiVd  as  in  a  frost ; 
Contracted  all,  retiring  to  the  breast : 
But  strength  of  mind  is  EXERCISE,  not  r&t. 

1.  02,  $  sefi 
But  the  Translator  is  not  for  mincing  matters. 

Seroit-il  en  naissant  ait  travail  condamm? 
Aux  douceurs  du  repos  seroit-il  destine  \ 

According  to  him,  Man  doubts  whether  he  be  con 
demned  to  a  slavish  toil  and  labour,  or  destined  to  the 
luxury  of  repose ;  neither  of  which  is  the  condition 
whereto  Providence  designed  him.  This  therefore  con 
tradicts  the  Poefs  whole  purpose,  which  is  to  recommend 
the  study  of  Man,  on  a  supposition  that  it  will  enable 
him  to  determine  rightly  in  his  doubts  between  the  true 
and  false  object.  7Tis  on  this  account  he  says, 

*  With  too  much  weakness  for  the  Stoic's  pride. 

Alike 


MR.  POPFS  ESSAY  ON  MAN,          65 

Alike  in  ignorance,  his  reason  such, 
Whether  he  thinks  too  little,  or  too  much ; 
Chaos  of  thought  and  passion,  all  confus'd, 
Still  by  himself  abusd,  or  disabusd. 

i.  e.  the  proper  sphere  of  his  reason  is  so  narrow,  and  the 
exercise  of  it  so  nice,  that  the  too  immoderate  use  of  it 
is  attended  with  the  same  ignorance  that  proceeds  from 
the  not  using  it  at  all.  Yet,  though  in  both  these  cases, 
he  is  abused  by  himself^  he  has  it  still  in  his  own  power 
to  disabuse  himself,  in  making  his  passions  subservient 
to  the  means,  and'  regulating  his  reason  by  the  cndvf  life. 
Mr.  De  Crousaz  himself  had  some  glimmering  of  the 
absurdity  of  those  two  lines  of  the  Translator:  and 
because  he  shall  not  say,  I  allow  him  to  have  said  no 
thing  reasonable  throughout  his  whole  Commentary^  I 
will  here  transcribe  his  very  words  :  "  Ce  qui  fait  encore, 
<c  que  les  antitheses  frappent  au  lieu  d'instruire,  c'est 
"  qu'elles  sont  otitrees.  'L'homme  nait-il  condamne  au 
"  travail?  Doit-il  se  permettre  la  molesse  et  le  repos? 
"  Quel  sujet  de  decouragement  ou  de  trouble,  si  Ton 
"  n'avoit  de  choix  qu'entre  deux  partis  si  contraires? 
"  Mais  nous  ne  naissons  ni  destines  a  un  repos  oisif,  ni 
"  condamne's  a  un  travail  accablant  et  inhumain."  p.  138. 

Again,  Mr.  Pope, 

In  doubt  to  deem  himself  a  god,  or  beast. 

L  e.  Fie  doubts,  as  appears  from  the  line  immediately 
following  this*,  whether  his  soul  be  mortal  or  immortal ; 
one  of  which  is  the  truth,  namely,  its  immortality,  as  the 
Poet  himself  teaches,  when  he  speaks  of  the  omnipre 
sence  of  God : 

Breathes  in  our  soul,  informs  our  mortal  part 

i  Ep.  1.  267. 

The  Translator,  as  we  say,  unconscious  of  the  Poet's 
purpose,  rambles,  as  before : 

Tantot  de  son  esprit  admirant  Texcellence, 
II  pense  qu'il  est  Dieu,  quil  en  a  la  puissance ; 
Et  tantot  gemissant  des  besoins  de  son  corps, 
II  croit  que  de  la  brute,  ii  n'a  que  les  resorts. 
Here  his  head  (turned  to  a  sceptical  view)  was  running 
*  In  doubt  his  mind  or  bvdy  to  prefer. 

Voi..  XI,  F  on 


66  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

on  the  different  extravagances  of  Plato  in  his  divin&y, 
and  of  DCS  Cartes  in  his  philosophy.  Sometimes,  says 
he,  Man  thinks  himself  a  rtal  god,  and  sometimes  again 
a  ?nere  machine;  things  quite  out  of  Mr.  Popes  thoughts 
in  this  place. 

Again,  the  Poet,  in  a  beautiful  allusion  to  the  senti 
ments  and  words  of  Scripture,  breaks  out  into  this  just 
and  moral  reflection  upon  Alans  condition  here, 

Born  but  to  die,  and  reasoning  but  to  err. 

The  Translator  turns  this  line  and  sober  thought  into 
the  most  outrageous  scepticism ; 

Ce  n'est  que  pour  inourir,  qu'il  est  ne,  qu'il  respire, 
Et  tout  sa  raison  fiest  presque  q.iiun  delire  r 

and  so  makes  his  author  directly  contradict  himself  where 
he  says  of  Man,  that  he  hath 

• — too  much  knowledge  for  the  sceptic  side. 

Strange !  that  the  Translator  could  not  see  his  Au 
thor's  meaning  was,  that,  as  we  are  born  to  die  and  yet 
enjoy  some  small  portion  of  life  ;>  so,  though  we  reason 
to  err,  yet  we  comprehend  some  few  truths.  Strange  ! 
that  he  could  not  see  the  difference  between  that  weak 
state  of  reason,  in  which  error  mixes  itself  with  all  its 
true  conclusions  concerning  Man's  nature;  and  an 
abstract  quality,  which,  we  vainly  call  reason,  but  which, 
he  tells  us,  is  indeed  scarce  any  thing  eke  but  madness. 
One  would  think  he  paid  littk  attention  to  the  concluding 
words  of  this  sublime  description,  M  here  the  Poet  tells  us,, 
Man  was 

Created  half  to  rise,  and  half  to  fall ; 
Great  lord  of  all  things,  yet  a  prey  to  all ; 
Sole  judge  of  truth,  in  endless  error  huiTd : 
The  glory  >  jest,  and  riddle  of  the  world. 

Indeed  he  paid   so  much,  as  to  contrive  how  he  might 
pervert  them  to  a  sense  consistent  with  his 

Et  tout  sa  raison  n'est  prcsque  qu'un  delire :, 
•Which  he  does  in  these  words  : 

Tantot  feu,  tantot  sage,  il  change  A  CIJAQUE  INSTANT. 

This  is  indeed  making  a  madman  of  this  sole  judge  of 

truth, 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.  67 

truth,  to  all  intents  and  purposes.  But  Mr.  Pope  says 
nothing  of  his  changing  evert/  moment  from  sage  to 
fool',  he  only  says,  that  folly  and  wisdom  are- the  insepa- 
rate  partage  of  humanity :  which  is  quite  another  thing. 

But  mistakes,  like  misfortunes,  seldom  come  single; 
and  the  reason  is  the  same,  in  both  cases,  because  they 
influence  one  another.  For  the  Translator,  having  mis 
taken  both  the  nature  and  end  of  the  description  of  the 
weakness  of  human  nature,  imagined  the  Poet's  second 
argument  for  the  difficulty  of  the  study  of  Man,  which 
shews,  that  the  dearest  and  sublimest  science  is  no 
assistance  to  it,  nor  even  religion  itself,  when  grown 
fanatical  and  enthusiastic ;  he  imagined,  I  say,  that  this 
fine  argument  was  an  illustration  only  of  the  foregoing 
description,  in  which  illustration,  instances  were  given  of 
the  several  extravagances  in  jalse  science ;  whereas  the 
Poet's  design  was,  just  the  contrary,  to  shew  the  prodi 
gious  vigour  of  the  human  mind,  in  studies  which  do  not 
relate  to  itself ;  and  yet  that  all  its  force,  together  with 
those  effects  of  it,  avail  little  in  this  inquiry. 

But  there  was  another  cause  of  the  Translators  error ; 
he  had  mistaken,  as  we  say,  the  Poet's  Jirst  argument  for 
a  description  of  the  weakness  of  the  human  mind  with 
regard  to  all  truth ;  whereas  it  is  only  such  with  regard 
to  the  knmcledge  of  Mans  nature.  This  led  him,  as  it 
would  seem,  to  conclude,  that,  if  Mr.  Pope  were  to  be 
understood  as  speaking  here  in  his  second  argument,  of 
real  and  great  progress  in  science,  it  would  contradict 
what  had  been  said  in  the  description  ;  and  therefore, 
out  of  tenderness  to  his  author,  he  turns  it  all  to  imagi 
nary  hypotheses. 

Let  us  take  the  whole  context. 

I. 

Go,  wondrous  creature !  mount  where  science  guides, 
Go  measure  earth,  weigh  air,  and  state  the  tides; 
Shew  by  what  laws  the  wafidYing  planets  stray, 
Correct  old  time,  and  teach  the  sun  his  way. 

II. 

Go  soar,  with  Plato,  to  th'  empyreal  sphere, 
To  the  first  good,  first  perfect,  and  first  fair ; 

F  2  III.  Or 


68  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

III. 

Or  tread  the  mazy  round  his  followers  trod, 
And  quitting  sense  call  imitating  God. 
Go  teach  Eternal  Wisdom  how  to  rule, 
Then  drop  into  thyself,  and  be  a  fool. 

Mr.  Pope  says,  Go,  wondrous  creature ;  and  he  never 
speaks  at  random.  The  reason  of  his  giving  Man  this 
epithet,  is,  because,  though  he  be,  as  the  Poet  says,  in 
another  place  *,  little  less  than  angel  in  his  faculties  of 
science,  yet  is  he  miserably  blind  in  the  knowledge  of 
himself.  "But  the  Translator  not  apprehending  the  Poet's 
thought,  imagined  it  was  said  ironically,  and  so  trans 
lates  it  ; 

Va,  sublime  mortel,  fier  de  ton  excellence, 
Ne  crois  rien  ^impossible  a  ton  intelligence. 

Mr.  Pope — 

— Mount  where  science  guides, 
Go  measure  earth,  weigh  air,  and  state  the  tides  ; 
Shew  by  what  laws  the  wandVing  planets  stray, 
Correct  old  time,  and  teach  the  sun  his  way. 

This  is  a  description  of  the  real  advances  in  science,, 
such  as  the  Newtonian.  And  the  very  introduction  to 
it, — Mount  where  science  guides,  shews  it  to  be  so. 

But  the  Translator,  carried  away  with  the  fancy  of  its 
being  an  illustration  of  the  foregoing  description,  turns 
the  whole  to  vain,  jalse,  imaginary  science,  such  as  that 
of  Des  Cartes : 

Le  compas  a  la  main,  mesure  Vurikcerse, 

Regie  a  ton  gri  le  flux  et  le  reflux  des  mers ; 

Five  le  poids  de  1'air,  et  commands  aux  planetes ; 

Determine  le  cours  de  leurs  marches  secretes ; 

Soumets  a  ton  calcul  I'obscurit6  des  terns, 

Et  de  i'astre  du  jour  conduis  les  movemens. 

Here,  in  order  to  add  the  greater  ridicule  to  his  false 
sense,  he  introduces  the  philosopher,  with  compass  in 
hand.,  measuring  the.  Universe,  mimicking  the  office  of 
God  in  the  act  of  creation,  as  he  is  represented  by  the 
ancients,  who  used  to  say,  'O  ©*<??  ywpfyti.  Whereas 
Mr.  Popes  words  are, 

*  Ep.  i.  1.  166.' 

Go 


MR.  POPES  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          69 

Go  measure  earth— 

Alluding  to  the  noble  and  useful  project  of  the  modern 
mathematicians  to  measure  a  degree  at  the  equator  and 
the  polar  circle,  in  order  to  determine  the  true  figure  of 
the  earth,  of  great  importance  to  astronomy  and  navi 
gation. 

Regulate,  says  he,  according  to  your  own  will,  the  flux* 
md  reftuy  of  the  sea;  and  this,  Des  Cartes  presumed  to 
do :  but  it  was  Newton  that  stated  the  tides.  It  is  the 
pretended  philosopher  that  JLv.es  the  weight  of  the  air-, 
but  the  real  philosopher  that  weighs  air.  It  was  Des 
Cartes  that  commanded  the  planets,  and  determined  them 
jo  roll  according  to  his  vwn  good  pleasure ;  but  it  was 
Newton  who 

Shewd  by  what  tews  the  wandering  planets  stray. 

Submit,  says  the  Translator,  the  obscurity  of  time  to 
your  calculation. — The  Poet  says, 

Correct  old  time. 

He  is  here  still  speaking  of  New-ton.  Correct  old  time 
jalludes  to  that  great  man's  (Grecian  Chronology,  which  he 
reformed  on  those  two  sublime  conceptions,  the  difference 
between  the  reigns  of  kings,  and  the  generations  of  men, 
and  the  positions  of  the  colur.es  of  the  equinox  and  sol- 
ptices,  at  the  time  of  the  Argonautic  expedition. 

And  when  the  Translator  comes  to  the  third  instance, 
which  is  that  of  false  religion,  he  introduceth  it  thus, 

Et  joignant  la  folie  a  la  t emeriti. 

Which  shews  how  ill  he  understood  Mr.  Popes  instances 
of  the  natural  philosophy  of  Newton,  and  the  metaphy 
sical  philosophy  of  Plato.  And  yet  all  the  justness,  the 
vforce,  and  sublimity  of  the  Poet's  reasoning  consist  in 
a  right  apprehension  of  them. 

Mr.  Pope— 

Go  teach  Eternal  Wisdom  how  to  rule, 

Then  drop  into  thyself,  and  be  a  fool. 

These  two  lines  have  only  contributed  to  keep  the 
Translator  in  his  error ;  for  he  took  fazjirst  of  them  to 
be  a  recapitulation  of  ail  that  had  been  said  from  1.  1 8. 
Whereas  both  of  them  together,  are  a  conclusion  from  it, 
to  this  effect :  "  Go  now,  vain  Man,  elated  with  thy 

F  3  "  acquirements 


70  A  COMMENTARY  OX 

"  acquirements  in  real  science  and  Imaginary  intimacy 
"  with  God;  Go  and  ran  into  all  the  extravagances  I 
"  have  exploded  in  the  first  I^pistle,  where  thou  pre- 
u  tendest  to  teach  Providence  how  to  govern ;  then  drop 
"  into  the  obscurities  of  thy  own  nature,  and  thereby 
"  manifest  thy  ignorance  and  folly/' 

Mr.  Pope  then  confirms  and  illustrates  this  reasoning 
by  one  of  the  greatest  examples  that  ever  was  : 

Superior  Beings,  when  of  late  they  saw 
A  mortal  Man  unfold  all  nature's  law, 
Admir'd  such  wisdom  in  an  earthly  shape, 
And  shew'd  a  NEWTON,  as  we  shew  an  ape. 

In  these  lines  he  speaks  to  this  effect — "  But  to  make 
"  you  fully  sensible  of  the  difficulty  of  this  study,  I  shall 
"  instance  in  the  great  Newton  himself;  whom  when 
"  Superior  Beings,  not  long  since,  saw  capable  of  unfold- 
"  ing  the  whole  law  of  Nature,  they  were  in  doubt  whether 
"  the  owner  of  such  prodigious  science  should  not  be 
"  reckoned  of  their  own  order ;  just  as  men,  when  they 
"  see  the  surprising  marks  of  reason  in  an  ape,  are  almost 
"  tempted  to  rank  him  with  their  own  kind.  And  yet 
"  this  wondrous  man  could  go  no  farther  in  the  know- 
"  ledge  of  his  own  nature,  than  the  generality  of  his 
"  species." 

Thus  stands  the  argument,  in  which  the  Poet  has  paid 
a  higher  compliment  to  the  great  Newton,  as  well  as  a 
more  ingenious,  than  was  ever  yet  paid  him  by  any  of  his 
most  zealous  followers :  yet  the  Translator,  now  quite  in 
the  dark,  by  mistake  upon  mistake,  imagined  his  design 
\vas  to  depreciate  Newtcris  knowledge,  and  to  humble 
the  pride  of  his  followers :  which  hath  made  him  play  at 
cross  purposes  with  his  original : 

Des  celestes  esprits  la  vive  intelligence 
Regard  avec  pitie  notre  foible  science ; 
Newton,  le  grand  Ncwion,  que  nos  adm irons  tons, 
Est  peut-etre  pour  eux,  ce  qu'un  singe  est  pour  nous. 
"  The  heavenly  spirits,  whose  understanding  is  so  far 
"  superior  to  ours,  look  down  wit{i  pity  on  the  weakness 
"  of  human  science ;  Newton,  the  great  Newton,  whom 
"  we  so  much  admire,  is  perhaps  in  no  higher  esteem 
"  with  them,  than  an  ape  is  with  us/' 

But 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          71 

But  it  is  not  their  pity,  but  their  admiration,  that  is  the 
subject  in  question:  and  it  was  for  no  slight  cause  they 
admired  ;  it  was  to  see  a  mortal  Alan  unfold  the  whole 
law  of  Nature:  which,  by  the  way,  might  have  shewn 
the  Translator,  that  the  Poet  was  speaking  of  real  science 
in  the  foregoing  paragraph.  Nor  was  it  Mr.  Pope's 
intention  to  bring  any  of  the  ape's  qualities,  but  its 
sagacity,  into  the  comparison.  But  why  the  ape.s,  it  may 
be  said,  rather  than  the  sagacity  of  some  more  decent 
animal ;  particularly  the  half-reasoning  elephant,  as  the 
Poet  calls  it,  which,  as  well  on  account  of  this  its  supe 
riority,  as  for  its  having  no  ridiculous  side,  like  the  ape, 
on  which  it  could  be  viewed,  seems  better  to  have  de 
served  this  honour?  I  reply,  because  as  none  but  a  shape 
•resembling  human,  .accompanied  with  great  sagacity, 
,could  occasion  the  doubt  of  that  animal's  relation  to 
Man,  the  ape  only  having  that  resemblance,  no  other 
animal  was  fitted  for  the  comparison.  And  on  this 
ground  of  relation  the  whole  beauty  of  the  thought 
depends;  Newton,  and  those  superior  Beings  being 
equally  immortal  spirits,  though  of  different  orders. 
And  here  let  me  take  notice  of  a  new  species  of  the 
sublime,  of  which  our  Poet  may  be  justly  said  to  be  the 
maker ;  so  new  that  we  have  yet  no  raame  for  it,  though 
of  a  nature  distinct  from  every  other  poetical  excellence. 
The  two  great  perfections  of  works  of  genius  are  wit  and 
sublimity.  Many  writers  have  been  witty,  several  have 
keen  sublime,  and  some  few  have  even  .possessed  both 
these  qualities  separately,  15 ut  &one  that  I  know  of, 
besides  our  Poet,  hath  had  the  .art  to  incorporate  them. 
Of  which  he  hath  given  many  examples,  both  in  this 
Essay,  and  in  his  other  poems.  One  of  the  noblest 
-being  the  passage  in  question.  This  seems  to  be  the 
last  effort  of  the  imagination,  to  poetical  perfection. 
And  in  this  compounded  excellence  the  wit  receives  a 
dignity  from  the  sublime,  and  the  sublime  a  splendour 
from  the  wit ;  which,  in  their  state  of  separate  existence, 
they  both  wanted. 

To  return,  this  mistake  seems  to  have  led  both  the 
Translator  .and  Commentator  into  a  much  worse ;  into 
a  strange  imagination  that  Mr.  Pope  had  here  reflected 
iipon  Sir  Isaac  Newton  s  moral  character;  which  the 

F  4  Poet 


72  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

Poet  was  as  far  from  doing,  as  the  philosopher  was  from 
deserving :    for, 

After  Mr.  Pope  had  shewn,  by  this  illustrious  instance, 
that  a  great  genius  might  make  prodigious  advances  in 
the  knowledge  of  'nature,  and  at  the  same  time  remain 
very  ignorant  of  hiwsclfl  he  gives  a  reason  for  it :— In 
all  other  sciences  the  understanding  has  no  opposite  prin 
ciple  to  cloud  and  bias  it ;  but  in  the  knowledge  of  Man, 
the  passions  obscure  as  fast  as  reason  can  clear  up. 

Could  he,  whose  rules  the  rapid  comet  bind, 
Describe,  or  fix,  one  movement  of  the  mind  ? 
Who  saw  those  fires  here  rise,  ami  there  descend* \ 
Explain  his  own  beginning,  or  his  end  ? 
Alas,  what  wonder !  Man's  superior  part 
Uncheck'd  may  rise,  and  climb  from  art  to  art; 
But  when  his  own  great  work  is  but  begun, 
What  reason  weaves,  by  passion  is  undone. 

Here  we  see,  at  the  fifth  line,  the  Poet  turns  from 
Newton,  and  speaks  of  Man  and  his  nature  in  general. 
But  the  Translator  applies  all  that  follows  to  that  phi 
losopher  : 

Toi  qui  jusques  aux  cieux  oses  porter  ta  vue, 
Qui  crois  en  concevoir  efc  Tordre  et  1'etendue, 
Toi  qui  veux  dans  leur  cours,  leur  prescrire  la  ioiB 
Sc ais-tu  regler  ton  cceur,  s^ais-tu  regner  sur  toi  ? 
Ton  esprit  qui  sur  tout  vainemeiit  se  fatigue, 
Avide  de  sjavoir,  ne  connoit  point  de  digue ; 
De  quoi  par  scs  travaux  s?cst~il  rendu  certain  ? 
Peut-il  te  decouvrir  ton  principe  et  ta  fin? 

On  which  the  Commentator  thus  candidly  remarks  < 
"  It  is  riot  to  be  disputed,  but  that  whatever  progress  a 
<c  great  genius  hath  made  in  science,  he  deserves  rather 
<c  censure  than  applause,  if  he  has  spent  that  time  in 
"  barren  speculations,  curious  Indeed,  but  of  little  use, 
*'  which  he  should  have  employed  to  know  himself,  hix 

*  Sir  Isaac  Newton  in  calculating  the  Telocity  of  a  comet's,  motion, 
and  the  course  it  describes,  when  it  becomes  visible  in  its  descent  to, 
and  ascent  from  the  sun,  conjectured,  with  the  highest  appearance  of 
trulb,  that  they  revolve  perpetually  round  the  sun,  in  ellipses,  vastly 
eccentrical,  and  very  nearly  approaching  to  parabolas.  In  which  he 
>vas  greatly  confirmed,  in  observing  between  two  comets  a  coincidence 
in  their  pcrihelicns,  and  a  perfect  agreement  in  their  velocities. 

"  beginning 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.  73 

*'  beginning  and  his  end,  and  how  to  regulate  his  con- 
*;  duct;  and  if,  instead  of  that  candour  and  humanity, 
"  and  desire  to  ohlige,  virtues  so  becoming  our  nature,  he 
ft  be  overrun  with  ambition,  envy,  and  a  rage  of  pre- 
"  heminence,  whose  violence,  and  rancour  are  attended 
"  with  the  most  scandalous  effects,  of  which  there  are 
"  too  many  instances ;  vices  which  Mr.  Neu  ton  lived 
"  and  died  an  entire  stranger  to*." 

I  have  transcribed  this  passage  to  expose  the  malig 
nant  motives  the  Commentator  appears  to  have  had  in 
writing  against  the  Essay  on  Man.  As  to  the  Translator, 
it  would  be  indeed  harder  to  know  what  motives  he  could 
have  in  translating  it,  for  it  is  plain  he  did  not  under 
stand  it.  Yet  this  is  he  who  tells  us,  tlvatjhe  Author  of 
the  Essay  has  not  Jormea 'his plan  with  all  the  regularity 
of  method  which  it  might  have  admitted,  that  he  wan 
obliged  to  follow  a  different  method ';  Jar  that  the  French 
are  not  satisfied  with  sentiments  however  beautiful,  unless 
they  be  methodically  disposed,  method  being  the  charac 
teristic  that  distinguishes  their  performances  from  those 
of  their  neighbours. 

Thus  neither  did  the  Critic,  nor  Translator,  suspect 
(and  never  were  poor  men  so  miserably  bit)  that 

Those  oft'  are  stratagems  which  errors  seem, 
Nor  is  it  Homer  nods,  but  we  that  dream. 

The  poetical  Translator  could  not  imagine  so  great  a 
Poet  would  pique  himself  upon  close  reasoning ;  and  the 
fastidious  philosopher,  of  course,  concluded,  that  a  man 
of  so  much  wit  could  hardly  reason  well ;  so  neither  of 
them  gave  a  proper  attention  to  the  Poet's  system.  A 
system  logically  close,  though  wrote  in  verse,  and  com 
plete,  though  studiously  concise:  this  second  Epistle 
particularly  (the  subject  of  the  present  Letter)  containing 
the  truest,  clearest,  shortest,  and  consequently  the  best 
account  of  the  origin,  use,  and  end  of  the  passions,  that 
Js,  in  my  opinion,  any  where  to  be  met  with.  Which  I 
now  proceed  to  consider,  in  the  same  strict  manner 
I  have  scrutinized  the  Introduction.  For  our  Poet's 
works  want  nothing  but  to  be  fairly  examined  by  the 
^eyerest  rules  of  logic  and  good  philosophy,  to  become 

*  Commentaire,  p.  147, 

as 


74  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

as  illustrious  for  their  sense,  as  they  have  long  been  for 
their  wit  and  poetry. 

I  go  on  therefore  to  the  body  of  the  discourse ;  which, 
as  plain  as  it  is,  I  find  Mr.  De  Crousaz  has  made  a  shin 
(though  extremely  free  with  his  insinuations  of  irreligion 
and  Spinozisni)  to  mistake  from  end  to  endf  So  true  is 
the  old  saying,  Homine  ii  riper  it  o  mini  cst  iniquius. 

The  Poet  having  thus  shewn  the  difficulty  attending 
the  study  of  Man,  proceeds  to  our  assistance  in  laying 
before  us  the  elements  or  true  principle  of  this  science,  in 
an  account  of  the  origin,  use,  and  end,  of  the  passions. 
He  begins  [from  1.  42  to  49]  with  pointing  out  the  tico 
grand  principles  in  human  nature,  SELF-LOVE  and  REA 
SON.  Describes  their  gemral  nature;  the  fkst  sets  Man 
upon  acting,  the  other  regulates  his  action.  However, 
these  principles  are  natural,  not  moral;  and,  therefore, 
in  themselves,  neither  good  nor  bad;  but  so,  only  as  they 
are  directed. 

Nor  this  a  good,  nor  that  a  bad  we  call, 
Each  works  its  end,  to  move  or  govern  all ; 
And  to  their  proper  operation  still 
Ascribe  all  good,  to  their  improper  ill. 

This  observation  is  made  with  great  judgment,  in 
opposition  to  the  desperate  folly  of  those  fanatics,  who, 
es  the  ascetic,  pretend  to  eradicate  self-love',  as  the 
jnijstic,  would  stifle  reason ;  and  bothy  on  the  absurd 
fancy  of  their  being  moral,  not  natural  principles. 

The  Poet  proceeds  [from  1.  48  to  57]  more  minutely 
to  mark  out  the  distinct  offices  of  these  tico  principles, 
which  he  had  before  assigned  only  in  general ;  and  here 
he  shews  their  necessity  ;  for  without  self-love,  as  the 
spring,  Man  would  be  unactive,  and  withou't  reason,  as 
the  balance,  active  to  no  purpose, 

Fixt  like  a  plant  on  his  peculiar  spot, 

To  draw  nutrition,  propagate,  and  rot: 

Or.  meteor-like,  flame  lawless  through  the  void, 

Destroying  others,  by  himself  destroyed. 

Having  thus  explained  the  ends  and  offices  of  each 
principle,  he  goes  on  [from  1.  56  to  69]  to  speak  of  their 
qualities:  and  shewrs  how  they  are  fitted  to  discharge 
those  functions,  and  answer  their  respective  intention*. 

The 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          75 

The  business  of  self '-love  being  to  excite  to  action,  it  is 
quick  and  impetuous ;  and  moving  instinctively,  has,  like 
attraction,  its  force  prodigiously  increased  as  the  object 
approaches,  and  proportionably  lessened  as  that  recedes. 
On  the  contrary,  reason,  like  the  author  of  attraction,  is 
always  calm  and  sedate,  and  equally  preserves  itself 
whether  the  object  be  near,  or  far  otf.  Hence  the  moving 
principle  is  made  more  strong ;  though  the  restraining 
be  more  quick-sighted.  The  consequence  he  draws  from 
this  is,  that,  if  we  would  not  be  carried  away  to  our 
Destruction,  we  must  always  keep  reason  upon  guard. 

But  it  would  be  objected,  that  if  this  account  be  true, 
human  life  would  be  most  miserable,  and,  even  in  the 
wisest,  a  perpetual  conflict  between  reason  and  the  pas 
sions.  To  this  therefore  the  Poet  replies  [from  1.  68  to 
71.]  Fwst,  that  Providence  has  so  graciously  contrived, 
that  even  in  the  voluntary  exercise  of  reason,  as  in  the 
mere  mechanic  motion  of  a  limb,  habit  makes  that,  which 
was  at  first  done  with  pain,  easy  and  natural.  And, 
secondly,  that  the  experience  gained  by  the  long  exercise 
of  reason  goes  a  great  way  towards  eluding  the  force  of 
self-love.  Now,  the  attending  to  reason,  as  here  recom 
mended,  will  gain  us  this  habit  and  experience. 

Attention,  habit  and  experience  gains; 

Each  strengthens  reason,  and  self-love  restrains. 

Hence  it  appears,  that  this  station  in  which  reason  is 
to  be  kept  constantly  upon  guard,  is  not  so  uneasy  a  one 
as  may  be  at  first  imagined. 

From  this  description  of  self -love  and  reason  it  follows, 
as  the  Poet  observes  [from  1.  70  to  83]  that  both  conspire 
to  one  end,  namely,  human  happiness,  though  they  be 
not  equally  expert  in  the  choice  of  the  means ;  tiie  dif 
ference  being  this,  that  the  first  hastily  seizes  every  thing 
which  has  the  appearance  of  good  i  the  other  weighs  and 
examines  whether  it  be  indeed  what  it  appears. 

This  shews,  as  he  next  observes,  the  folly  of  the 
schoolmen,  who  consider  them  as  two  opposite  principles, 
the  one  good,  and  the  other  ill ;  the  observation  is  season 
able  and  judicious;  for  this  dangerous  school-opinion 
gives  great  support  to  the  Manichean  or  Zoroastran  error, 
the  confutation  of  which  was  one  of  the  Author's  chief 

ends 


76  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

ends  of  writing.  For  if  there  be  two  principles  in  Man, 
a  good  and  bad,  it  is  natural  to  think  him  the  joint  pro 
duct  of  the  two  Manichean  deities  (the  first  of  which 
contributed  to  his  reason,  the  other  to  his  passions)  rather 
than  the  creature  of  one  individual  cause.  This  was 
Plutarch's  notion,  and,  as  we  may  see  in  him,  of  the 
more  ancient  Manicheans.  It  was  of  importance  there 
fore  to  reprobate  and  subvert  a  noiion  that  served  to  the 
support  of  so  dangerous  an  error.  And  this  the  Poet 
has  done  with  more  force  and  clearness  than  is  often  to 
be  found  in  whole  volumes  wrote  against  that  heretical 
opinion : 

Let  subtile  schoolmen  teach  these  friends  to  fight, 

More  studious  to  divide,  than  to  unite ; 

And  grace  and  virtue,  sense  and  reason  split, 

With  all  the  rash  dexterity  of  wit. 

But  the  French  Translator  has  mistaken  these  lines  for 
a  reflection,  not  on  the  theology,  as  Mr.  Pope  intended 
them,  but  on  the  logic  of  the  .schools,  u  ith  which  the  Poet 
had  here  nothing  to  do.  This,  it  is  true,  delights  in 
distinctions  without  difference,  which  is  indeed  a  fault, 
but  not  of  so  high  malignity  as  the  other :  that,  which 
the  Poet  censures,  leading  directly  into  error ;  this,  which 
his  Translator  reproves,  only  hindering  our  progress  m 
truth  or  science. 

Qu'im  scholastique  vain  cherchant  a  discourir 

Cache  la  veritb  loin  de  la  decouvrir, 

Quo,  par  un  long  tissu  d'  argumens  inutiles, 

Par  des  tours  ambigiis,  par  des  raisons  inutilcs^ 

Voulant  tout  d'mser  jusques  a  Vmjiniy 

II  separe  avec  art  cc  qui  doit  etre  uni. 

Now,  though  this  fault  in  the  logic  of  the  schools  be 
universally  owned  and  condemned  by  all  out  of  them, 
and  by  no  one  more  than  by  Mr.  De  Crousaz  himself, 
in  his  books  of  logic,  yet  in  pure  contradiction  to  Mr. 
Pope,  who,  as  he  thought,  had  condemned  it,  he  could 
not  forbear  saying,  A  poet  may  happen  to  write  with  more 
elegance  than  a  schoolman,  and  yet  for  all  that  not  be 
able  to  express  himself  with  more  justness  and  precision* . 

The  Poet  having  given  this  account  of  the  nature  of 
*  Commentaire,  p.  152. 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          77 

&lf-love  in  general,  comes  now  to  anatomize  it,  in  a 
discourse  of  the  PASSIONS,  which  he  aptly  names  the 
Modes  of  Self-love ;  the  object  of  all  these,  he  shews  [from 
1.  82  to  0,1]  is  good;  and  when  under  the  guidance  of 
reason,  real  good ;  either  of  our  own,  or  of  another  ;  for 
some  goods  not  being  capable  of  division  or  communica 
tion,  and  reason,  at  the  same  time,  directing  us  to  provide 
for  ourselves,  we  therefore,  in  pursuit  of  these  objects, 
sometimes  aim  at  our  own  good,  sometimes  at  the  good 
of  others ;  when  fairly  aiming  at  our  own,  the  passion  is 
called  prudence,  when  at  another's,  virtue. 

Hence  (as  he  shews  from  1.  90  to  95)  appears  the  folly 
of  the  Stoics,  who  would  eradicate  the  passions,  things  so 
necessary  both  to  the  good  of  the  individual,  and  of  the 
kind.  Which  preposterous  method  of  promoting  virtue, 
he  therefore  very  reasonably  reproves.  But  as  it  was 
from  observation  of  die  evils  occasioned  by  the  passions, 
that  the  Stoics  thus  extravagantly  projected  their  extir 
pation,  the  Poet  recurs  [from  1.  94  to  101]  to  his  grand 
principle,  so  often  before,  and  to  so  good  purpose, 
insisted  on,  that 

— partial  ill  is  universal  good: 

and  shews,  that,  though  tlie  tempest  of  the  passions,  like 
that  of  the  air,  may  tear  and  ravage  some  few  parts  of 
nature  in  its  passage,  yet  the  salutary  agitation  produced 
by  it  preserves  the  whole  in  life  and  vigour.  This  is  his 
Jirst  argument  against  the  Stoics,  which  he  illustrates  by 
a  very  beautiful  similitude,  on  a  hint  taken  from  Scripture 
story*: 

Nor  God  alone  in  the  still  calm  we  find, 

He  mounts  the  storm,  and  walks  upon  the  wind. 

But  the  Translator,  not  taking  this  allusion,  has  tunui 
it  thus : 

Dieu  lui-m£me,  Dieu  sort  de  son  profond  repos. 
And  so  lias  made  an  epicurean  god  of  the  Governor  of 
the  Universe,  of  whom  Scripture  afforded  Mr.  Pope  this 
grand  and  sublime  idea.  Mr.  De  Crousaz  does  not 
spare  this  expression  of  God's  coming  out  of  his  profound 
repose.— It  u  (says  he)  excessively  "poetical,  'and  presents 

9  i  Kings  xix.  11,  12. 

us 


78  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

us  with  hkas  which  we  ought  not  to  die  ell  upon.  But 
when  he  goes  on — (there  is  nothing  in  God's  directing 
the  storm  winch  can  authorize  the  passions  that  disturb 
our  happiness*),  he  talks  very  impertinently.  Mr.  Pope 
is  not  here  arguing  from  analogy,  that  as  God  raises  and 
heightens  the  storm,  so  should  we  raise  and  heighten  the 
passions.  The  words  are  only  a  simple  affirmation  in  the 
poetic  dress  of  a  similitude,  to  this  purpose — "  Good  is 
*'  not  only  produced  by  the  subdual  of  tiie  passions,  but 
"  by  the  turbulent  exercise  of  them:" 

Nor  God  alone  in  the  still  calm  we  find, 

He  mounts  the  storm,  and  walks  upon  the  wind. 

A  truth  conveyed  under  the  most  sublime  imagery  that 
poetry  could  conceive  or  paint.  For  he  is  here  only 
shewing  the  providential  effects  of  the  passions,  and  how, 
by  God's  gracious  disposition,  they  are  turned  away  from 
their  natural  bias,  to  promote  the  happiness  of  mankind. 
As  to  the  method  in  which  they  are  to  be  treated  by 
Man,  in  whom  they  are  found,  all  that  he  contends  for, 
in  favour  of  them,  is  only  this,  that  they  should  not  be 
quite  rooted  up  and  destroyed,  as  the  Stoics,  and  their 
followers  in  all  religions,  foolishly  attempted.  For  the 
rest,  he  constantly  repeats  this  advice : 

The  action  of  the  stronger  to  suspend, 
REASON  still  use,  to  REASON  still  attend. 

His  second  argument  against  the  Stoics  [from  1.  100  to 
1 1 3]  is,  that  passions  go  to  the  composition  of  a  moral 
character,  just  as  elementary  particles  go  to  the  compo 
sition  of  an  organized  body :  therefore,  for  Man  to  go 
about  to  destroy  what  composes  his  very  being,  is  the  height 
of  extravagance  :  it  is  true,  he  tells  us  that  these  passiom 
which  in  their  natural  state,  like  elements,  are  in  perpe 
tual  jar,  must  be  tempered,  softened,  and  united,  in  order 
to  perfect  the  work  of  the  great  plastic  artist ;  who,  in 
this  office,  employs  human  reason:  whose  business  it  is 
to  follow  the  road  of  Nature,  and  to  observe  the  dictates 
of  the  Deity.  Follow  her  and  God.  The  use  and  im 
portance  oi'  this  precept  is  evident :  for  in  doing  the 
Jirst,  she  will  discover  the  absurdity  of  attempting  to 

*  Commentate,  p.  158. 

eradicate 


MR.  POPE'S   ESSAY  ON  MAN.          79 

eradicate  the  passions  ;  in  doing  the  second,  she  will  learn 
how  to  make  them  subservient  to  the  interest  of  virtue ; 

Suffice  that  reason  keep  to  Natures  road, 
Subject,  compound  them,  follow  her  and  God. 
Love,  hope,  and  joy,  fair  pleasure's  smiling  train, 
Hate,  fear,  and  grief,  the  family  of  pain, 
These  mixt  with  art,  and  to  due  bounds  confin'd, 
Make  and  maintain  the  balance  of  the  mind. 
His  third  argument  against  the  Stoics  [from  1.  1 1 2  to 
1 1 7]  is,  that  the  passions  occasion  in  us  a  perpetual  ex 
citement   to    the   pursuit  of  happiness;    which   without 
these  powerful  inciters  we  should  neglect,  in  an  insensible 
indolence.     Now  happiness  is  the  end  of  our  creation  ; 
and  this  excitement  the  means  of  happiness:  therefore 
these  movers,  the  passions,  are  the  instruments  of  God, 
which  he  has  put  into  the   hands  of  reason,   to  work 
withal : 

Pleasures  are  ever  in  our  hands  or  eyes, 
And  when  in  act  they  cease,  in  prospect  rise ; 
Present  to  grasp,  and  future  still  to  find, 
The  whole  employ  of  body  and  of  mind. 

The  Poet  then  proceeds  in  his  subject ;  and  this  last 
observation  leads  him  naturally  to  the  discussion  of  his 
next  principle.  He  shews  then,  that  though  all  the 
passions  have  their  turn  in  swaying  the  determinations  of 
the  mind,  yet  every  man  has  one  MASTER  PASSION"  that 
at  length  stifles  or  absorbs  all  the  rest.  The  fact  he 
illustrates  at  large,  in 'the  first  epistle  of  his  second  book. 
Here  [from  1.  116  to  132]  he  gives  us  the  cause  of  it: 

'  Those  pleasures  or  goods,  which  are  the  objects  of  the 
*'  passions,  affect  the  mind,  by  striking  on  the  senses; 

1  but,  as  through  the  formation  of  the  organs  of  the 
:'  human  frame,  every  man  has  some  sense  stronger  and 
"  more  acute  than  others,  the  object,  which  strikes  that 
"  stronger  or  acuter  sense,  whatever  it  be,  will  be  the 
"  object  most  desired  ;  and,  consequently,  the  pursuit  of 
"  that  will  be  the  ruling  passion ;" 

All  spread  their  charms,  but  charm  not  all  alike, 
Ou  different  senses  different  objects  strike ; 
Hence  different  passions  more  or  less  inflame, 
As  strong,  or  weak,  the  organs  of  the  frame; 

And 


8o  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

Arid  hence  one  master  passion  in  the  breast, 
Like  Aarorfs  serpent,  swallows  all  the  rest. 

- — that  the  difference  of  force  in  this  ruling  passion  shall 
at  first,  perhaps,  be  very  small  or  even  imperceptible ; 
but  nature,  habit,  imagination,  wit,  nay  even  reason 
itself,  shall  assist  its  growth,  till  it  hath  at  length  drawn 
and  converted  every  other  into  itself. 

All  this  is  delivered  in  a  strain  of  poetry  so  wonderfully 
sublime,  as  suspends  for  a  while  the  ruling  passion  in 
every  reader,  and  ingrosses  his  whole  admiration: 

As  Man,  perhaps,  the  moment  of  his  breath 

Receives  the  lurking  principle  of  death ; 

The  young  disease,  that  must  subdue  at  length, 

Grows  \\ith  his    growth,    and    strengthens  with    his- 

So,  cast  and  mingled  with  his  very  frame,       [strength  ; 

The  mind's  disease,  its  RULING  PASSION  came : 

Each  vital  humour  \\hich  should  feed  the  whole^ 

Soon  flows  to  this,  in  body  and  in  soul ; 

Whatever  warms  the  heart,  or  rills  the  head,  j 

As  the  mind  opens,  and  its  functions  spread, 

Imagination  plies  her  dangerous  art, 

And  pours  it  all  upon  the  peccant  part. 

Nature  its  mother,  habit  is  its  nurse  ; 

IVit,  spirit,  faculties,  but  make  it  worse ; 

Reason  itself  but  gives  it  edge  and  power, 

As  Heaven's  blest  beam  turns  vinegar  more  sour*. 

This  naturally  leads  the  Poet  to  lament  the  weakness 
and  insufficiency  of  human  reason  [from  1.  138  to  1,51];. 
and  the  honest  purpose  he  had  in  so  doing  was,  plainly  to 
intimate  the  necessity  of  a  more  sublime  dispensation  to 
mankind : 

We,  wretched  subjects,  though  to  lawful  sway, 
In  this  weak  queen  some  fav'rite  still  obey. 

*  The  Poet,  in  some  other  of  his  Epistles,  gives  examples  of  the 
doctrine  and  precepts  here  delivered.  Thus,  in  that  of  the  Use  of 
Riches,  he  has  illustrated  this  truth  in  the  character  of  Cotta  : 

Old  Cotta  sham'd  his  fortune  and  his  birth, 

Yet  u'as  nut  Cotta  void  of  wit  or  worth. 

What  though  (the  use  of  barb'rous  spits  forgot) 

His  kitchen  vied  in  coolness  with  his  grot  ? 

If  Cotta  liv'd  on  pulse,  it  was  no, wore 

Than  brarnins,  saints,  and  sagc$>  did  before* 

13  Ah! 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          81 

Ah !  if  she  lend  not  arms  as  well  as  rules, 

What  can  she  more  than  tell  us  we  are  fools  ? 

Teach  us  to  mourn  our  nature,  not  to  rnend, 

A  sharp  accuser,  but  a  helpless  friend  ! 

St.  Paul  himself  did  not  druse  to  employ  other  argu 
ments,  when  disposed  to  give  us  the  highest  idea  of  the 
usefulness  of  Christianity  *.  But,  it  may  be,  the  Poet 
finds  a  remedy  in  natural  religion :  Far  from  it.  He 
here  leaves  reason  unrelieved.  What  is  this  then  but  an 
intimation  that  we  ought  to  seek  for  a  cure  in  that  religion 
which  only  dares  profess  to  give  it  ? 

But  Mr.  De  Croumz  says,  the  Poet,  in  this  repre 
sentation  of  human  reason,  has  contradicted  what  he 
said  of  it  in  the  Sotll  and  9 8th  lines  of  this  Epistle.  And, 
possessed  with  this'  notion,  he  goes  on,  in  his  declama 
tory  way,  so  unworthy  a  grave  logician  :  Does  jklr* 
Pope  take  a  pleasure  in  blowing  hot  and  cold,  in  giving 
zis  successively  the  sweet  and  bitter,  to  reduce  us  to  suck 
a  state  that  ice  may  not  know  what  to  stick  to?  If  there 
be  no  ill  design  at  bottom  in  these  contradictions,  but  that 
they  only  spring  from  the  imprudent  custom3  established 
in  the  schools,  of  talking  Pro  and  Con  ^,  £e.  And  then 
tells  an  idle  common-place  story  of  Cardinal  Perron. 
In  the  mean  time  it  happens  that  this  is  no  contradiction 
at  all,  or,  if  it  be,  it  is  that  very  contradiction  into  which 
St.  Paul  likewise  fell,  when  lie  so  continually  recom 
mended  the  use  of  reason,  and  yet  so  energetically  de 
scribed  its  imbecility  and  impotence.  But  as  our  Logician 
-said  before,  on  a  like  occasion,  this  might  be  edifying  in 
a  good  ma%,  yet  give  scandal  in  au  ill  one. 

To  proceed :  As  it  appears  from  the  account  here 
given  of  the  ruling  passion,  and  its  cause,  which  results 
from  the  structure  of  the  organs,  that  it  is  the  road  of 
nature,  the  Poet  shews  [from  L  150  to  .157]  that  this 
road  is  to  be  followed.  So  .that  the  office  of  reason  is 
not  to  direct  us  what  passion  to  exercise,  but  to  assist 
us  in  RECTIFYING,  and  keeping  within  due  bounds," 
that  which  Nature  haiji  so  strongly  impressed;  for  that 

A  mightier  Power  the  strong  direction  sends, 

And  several  men  impels  to  several  ends. 

*  Epistle  to  tb*  Homans,  c.  vii.  f  Comment,  p.  166. 

VOL.  XL  G  Here 


82  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

Here  Mr.  De  Crousaz  pours  out  the  full  stream  of  his 
candour  and  politeness,  in  his  criticism  on  these  lines : 

Yet  Nature's  road  must  ever  be  preferred  ; 
Reason  is  here  no  guide,  but  still  a  guard  ; 
'Tis  her's  to  RECTIFY,  not  overthrow, 
And  treat  this  passion  more  as  friend  than  foe. 

The  -only  refuge  I  have  here  left  (says  he)  is  to  suppose 
that  Mr.  Pope  thought  the  very  mention  of  this  notion 
•would  be  sufficient  to  expose  the  absurdity  and  horror  of 
it,  and  of  those  who  regulate  their  conduct  on  such  un 
righteous  and  shocking  ideas.     And  I  conceive  I  should 
do  M.  TAbb6  de  Sep-Fontaines  much  injustice,  if  I  did 
not  believe  this   was  his  intention  in  translating  this 
passage.     But,  to  have  a  more  perfect  idea  of  the  ridi 
cule  and  horror  of  it,  let  us  put  the  words  into  the  mouth 
cf'  a  confessor  *,  §c.     And  so  he  goes  gayly  on  f ,  to  re 
present  a  ghostly  father  encouraging  his  penitents  in  their 
several  vices  on  Mr.  Pope's  pretended  principles.      But 
Mve  shall  spoil  his  mirth,  by  only  assuring  him,  that  the 
Poet's  precept  can  have  no  other  meaning  than  this, 
*c  That  as  the  ruling  piiSMon  is  implanted  by  Nature,  it 
"  is  Reason's  office  to  regulate,  direct,  and  restrain,  but 
cc  not  to  overthrow  it     I'o  regulate  the  passion  of  avarice^ 
"  for  instance,   into  a   >arsimonious  dispensation  of  the 

public  revenues ;  to  direct  the  passion  of  love,  whose 

object  is  worth  and  beauty, 

"  To  the  fast  good,  fast  perfect,  and  first  fair\, 

"  as  his  master  Plato  advises ;  and  to  restrain  spleen,  to 
"  a  contempt  and  hatred  of  vice.'*  This  is  what  the 
Poet  meant,  and  what  every  unprejudiced  man  could  not 
but  see  he  must  nee  Is  mean,  by  RECTIFYING  THE 
MASTER  PASSION,  though  he  had  not  confined  us 
to  this  sense,  in  the  reason  he  gives  of  his  precept,  in 
these  words : 

A  mightier  Power  the  strong  direction  sends, 
And  several  men  impels  to  several  ends. 

For  what  ends  are  they  which  God  impels  to,  but  the 

ends  of  virtue  ? 

*  Commentaire,  p.  170.        f  Id.  171,  173, 

But 


it 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          83 

But  few  a  more  perfect  idea  (to  speak  in  his  own  free 
terms)  of  the  ridicule  -of  our  Logician's  Comment,  let  us 
attend  to  what  he  remarks  on  these  i\\-o  last  lines.  These 
words  (says  he)  may  bt  understood  m  more  than  one  sense, 
which  is  not  rare,  and  may  have  a  more  or  less  restrain 
ed  meaning,  Tfiey  are  susceptible  of  a  sense  extrava 
gant  and  injurious  to  Providence^  and  they  mil  admit  of 
a  reasonable  one,  and  very  worthy  our  attention*.  Here 
we  see,  he  doubts  about  the  meaning  of  the  reason  of  the 
precept ;  admits  it  may  have  a  good  one  ;  and  yet  con 
demns,  without  hesitation,  and  in  the  grossest  and  most 
shocking  terms,  the  precept  itself;  wliose  meaning  must 
yet,  according  to  all  rational  rules,  even  those  of  his 
own  logic,  if  it  have  any  such,  be  determined  by  the 
reason  of  it. 

But  to  return.  The  Poet  having  proved  that  the  rul 
ing  passion  (since  Nature  hath  given  it  us)  is  not  to  be 
overthrown,  but  rectified,  the  next  inquiry  will  be  of 
what  use  the  ruling  passion  is ;  for  an  use  it  must  have, 
if  reason  be  to  treat  it  thus  mildly?  This  use  he  shews 
us  [from  1.  156  to  187]  is  twofold,  natural  and  moral. 

i.  Its  natural  use  is  to  conduct  men  steddily  to  one 
certain  end,  who  would  otherwise  be  eternally  fluctuat 
ing  between  the  equal  violence  of  various  and  discordant 
passions,  driving  them  up  and  down  at  random : 

Like  varying  winds,  by  other  passions  tost, 
This  drives  them  constant  to  a  certain  coast  ; 

and  by  that  means  enables  them  to  promote  the  good  of 
society,  by  making  each  a  .contributor  tp  the  common 
stock. 

Let  power  or  knowledge,  gold  or  glory  please, 
Or  (oft  HfK)re  strong  than  all)  the  love  of  ease: 
Through  lite  'tis  follow'cL— 

2.  Its  moral  use  is  to  ingraft  our  ruling  virtue  upon  it : 
Th'  eternal  art,  educing  good  from  ill, 
Grafts  on  this  passion  our  best  principle ; 

and  by  that  means  enables  us  to  promote  our  own  good 

&y  turning  the  exorbitancy  of  the  ruling  passion  into  it$ 

neighbouring  virtue: 

*  Cqnimentaire,  p.  174.  . 

o  2  See 


84  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

See  anger,  zeal  and  fortitude  supply  ; 
Ev'n  avrice,  prudence ;  sloth,  philosophy : 
Nor  virtue,  male  or  female,  can  we  name, 
But  what  will  grow  on  pride,  or  grow  on  shame. 

The  wisdom  of  the  divine  Artist  is,  as  the  Poet  finely 
observes,  very  illustrious  in  this  contrivance :    For  the 
mind  and ,  body  having  now  one  common  interest,  the 
efforts  of  virtue  will  have  their  force  infinitely  augmented ; 
'Tis  thus  the  mercury  of  Man  is  fixt, 
Strong  grows  the  virtue  with  his  nature  mixt ; 
The  dross  cements  what  else  were  too  refin'd, 
A,nd  in  one  interest  body  acts  with  mimL 
But  lest  it  should  be  objected  that  this  account  favours 
the  doctrine  of  necessity,  and  would  insinuate  that  men 
are  only  acted  upon  in  the  production  of  good  out  of  evil ; 
the  Poet  teacheth  [from  1.  1 86  to  1 93]  that  Man  is  &free 
agent,  and  hath  it  in  his  own  power  to  turn  the  natural 
passions  into  virtues  or  into  vices,  properly  so  called  : 
Reason  the  bias  turns  from  good  to  ill, 
And  Nero  reigns  a  Titus,  if  he  WILL, 

Secondly,  If  it  should  be  objected,  that  though  the 
Poet  doth  indeed  tell  us  some  auctions  are  beneficial  and 
some  hurtful,  yet  he  could  not  call  those  virtuous,  nor 
these  vicious,  because,  as  he  has  described  things,  the 
motive  appears  to  be  only  gratification  of  some  passion  ; 
give  me  leave  to  answer  for  him,  that  this  would  be 
mistaking  the  argument,  which  in  this  epistle  [to  1.  239] 
considers  the  passions  only  with  regard  tQ  society,  that 
is,  with  regard  to  their  effects  rather  than  their  motives. 
That  however  it  is  his  design  to  teach  that  actions  are 
properly  virtuous  and  vicious -,  and  though  it  be  difficult 
to  distinguish  genuine  virtue  from  spurious,  they  having 
both  the  same  appearance,  and  both  the  same  public 
effect* ;  yet  they  may  be  disembarrassed.  If  it  be  aste4, 
by  what  means?  H'  replies  [from  1.  192  to  195]  by  con 
science,  which  is  sufficient  to  the  purpose  ;  for  'tis  only  a 
man's  own  concern,  to  know  whether  his  virtue  be  pure 
and  solid;  for  what  is  that  to;  others,  while  the  effect  of 
this  virtue,  whether  real  or  unsubstantial,  is?  as  to  them^ 
the  same  ? 

This  light  and  darkness,  in  our  chaos  join'd, 
What  shall  divide  ?     The  God  within  the  mind. 

A  Platonic 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          85 

A  Platonic  phrase  for  CONSCIENCE  ;  and  here  employed 
mth  great  judgment  and  propriety.  For  conscience  either 
signifies,  speculgtively,  the  judgment  we  pass  of  things 
upon  whatever  principles  we  chance  to  have ;  and  then 
it  is  only  OPINION,  a  very  unable  judge  and  divider: 
Or  else,  it  signifies,  practically,  the  application  of  the 
eternal  ruL  of  right  (received  by  us  as  the  law  of  God] 
to  the  regulation  of  our  actions  ;  and  then  it  is  properly 
CONSCIENCE,  The  God  (or  the  law  of  God)  within  the 
mind,  of  power  to  divide  the  light  from  the  darkness  in 
this  chaos  of  the  passions. 

But  still  it  will  be  said,  why  all  this  difficulty  to  dis 
tinguish  true  virtue  from  false  ?  The  Poet  shews  why 
[from  1.  194  to  201.]  "  That  though  indeed  vice  and 
"  virtue  so  invade  each  other's  bounds,  that  sometimes 
"  we  can  scarce  tell  where  one  ends  and  the  other  begins, 
"  yet  great  purposes  are  serv'd  thereby,  no  less  than  the 
"  perfecting  the  constitution  of  the  whole  ;  as  lights  and 
"  shades,  which  run  into  one  another  in  a  well-wrought 
"  picture,  make  the  harmony  and  spirit  of  the  com- 
"  position/'  But  on  this  account  to  say  there  is  neither 
vice  nor  virtue,  the  Poet  shews  [from  1.  200  to  207] 
would  be  just  as  wise  as  to  say  there  is  neither  black  nor 
zchite\  because  the  shade  of  that,  and  the  light  of  this> 
often  run  into  one  another  : 

Ask  your  own  heart,  and  nothing  is  so  plain ; 
'Tis  to  mistake  them  costs  the  time  ondputii. 

This  is  an  error  of  speculation,  which  leads  men  so 
foolishly  to  conclude,  that  there  is  neither  vice  nor  virtue. 

2.  There  is  another  of  practice,  which  hath  more 
common  and  fatal  effects ;  and  is  next  considc.  L-d 
[from  1.  206  to  21 1  :]  It  is  this,  that  though,  at  the  first 
aspect,  Vice  be  so  horrible  as  to  affright  all  beholders, 
yet,  when  by  habit  we  are  once  grown  familiar  with  her, 
we*  first  suffer,  and  in  time  begin  to  lose  the  memory  of 
her  nature  : 

Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen ; 
Yet  seen  too  olt,  familiar  w  ith  her  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace. 
Which  necessarily  implies  an  equal   ignorance  in   the 

G  3  nature 


86  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

nature  of  virtue.  Hence  men  conclude,  that  there  is 
neither  one  nor  the  other. 

But  it  is  not  only  that  extreme  of  vice  next  to  virtue, 
which  betrays  us  into  these  mistakes ;  We  are  deceived 
too,  as  he  shews  us  [from  1.  210  to  221  ],  by  our  obser 
vations  about  the  other  extreme. 

But  where  th'  extreme  of  vice  was  ne'er  agreed  : 
Ask  where's  the  North?  at  York  'tis  on  the  Tweed; 
In  Scotland,  at  the  Or  cades  \  and  there 
At  Greenland,  Zembta,  or  the  Lord  knows  where. 

For,  from  the  extreme  of  vice's  being  unsettled,  and  per 
petually  shifting,  men  conclude,  that  vice  itself  is  only 
nominal. 

3.  There  is  yet  a  fMrd  cause  of  this  error  of  no  vice 
no  virtue,  composed  of  the  other  two,  L  c.  partly  specula 
tive,  and  partly  practical:  and  this  also  the  Poet  con 
siders  [from  1.  220  to  229],  shewing  it  ariseth  from  the 
imperfection  of  the  best  characters,  and  the  inequality  of 
all;  whence  it  happens  that  no  man  is  extremely  virtuous 
or  vicious,  nor  extremely  constant  in  pursuit  of  either. 
Why  it  so  happens,  the  Poet  assigns  an  admirable  reason 
in  this  line  : 

For,  vice  or  virtue,  SELF  directs  if  still. 

An  adherence  or  regard  to  what  is,  in  the  sense  of  the 
world,  a  man's  own  interest,  making  an  extreme  in  either 
impossible.  Its  effect  in  keeping  a  good  man  from  the 
extreme  of  virtue  needs  no  explanation  :  And  in  an  ill 
man,  self-interest  shewing  him  the  necessity  of  some 
kind  of  reputation,  the  procuring  and  preserving  that 
will  necessarily  keep  him  from  the  extreme  of  vice. 

The  mention  of  this  principle  that  self  directs  vice 
and  virtue,  and  its  consequence,  which  is,  that 

Each  individual  seeks  a  several  Goal, 
leads  the  Author  to  observe 

That  Heaven's  great  view  is  one,  and  that  the  whole ; 

and  this  brings  him  naturally  round  again  to  his  main 

subject,  namely,  God's  producing  good  out  of  ill,  which 

he  prosecutes  in  his  inimitable  manner  [from  1. 228  to  239.] 

13  That 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          87 

That  counterworks  each  folly  and  caprice ; 
That  disappoints  th'  effect  of  ev'ry  vice: 
That  happy  frailties  to  all  ranks  apply 'd,  } 
Shame  to  the  virgin,  to  the  matron  pride. 
Fear  to  the  statesman,  rashness  to  the  chief, 
To  kings  presumption,  and  to  crowds  belief. 

I.  Hitherto  the  Poet  hath  been  employed  in  discours 
ing  of  the  use  of  the  passions,  with  regard  to  society  at 
large,  and  in  freeing  his  doctrine  from  objections.     This 
is  thejirst  general  division  of  the  subject  of  this  Epistle. 

II.  He  comes  to  shew  [from  1.  238  to  251]  the  use  of 
these  passions,  with  regard  to  the  more  conjined  circle  of 
our  friends,  relations,  and  acquaintance*    And  this  is  the 
second  general  division : 

Wants,  frailties,  passions,    closer  still  ally 
The  common  hit  Vest,  or  endear  the  tie : 
To  these  we  owe  true  friendship,  love  sincere, 
Each  homefelt  joy  that  life  inherits  here: 
Yet  from  the  same  we  learn  in  its  decline 
Those  joys,  those  loves,  those  interests  to  resign. 

As  these  lines  seem  not  to  have  been  understood  by 
the  Translator,  and  are  scandalously  misrepresented  by 
the  Commentator,  who  would  insinuate  them  to  be  a 
kind  of  approbation  of  suicide*,  f  shall  here  give  the 
reader  their  plain  and  obvious  meaning. 

6  To  these  frailties  (says  he)  we  owe  all  the  endear- 
"  ments  of  private  life  ;  yet,  when  we  come  to  that  age, 
"  which  generally  disposes  men  to  think  more  seriously 
"  of  the  true  value  of  things,  and,  consequently,  of  their 
"  provision  for  a  future  state,  the  consideration  that  the 
<c  grounds  of  those  joys,  loves  and  friendships,  are  wants, 
"frailties  and  passions,  proves  the  best  expedient  to 
"  wean  us  from  the  world ;  a  disengagement  so  friendly 
k<  to  that  provision  we  are  now  making  for  another" 
The  observation  is  new,  and  would  in  any  place  be  ex 
tremely  beautiful,  but  has  here  an  infinite  grace  and  pro 
priety,  as  it  so  well  confirms,  by  an  instance  of  great 
moment,  the  Poet's  general  thesis,  That  God  makes  ill, 
at  every  step,  productive  of  good. 

III.  The  Poet  having   thus  shewn  the  use  of   the 

*  Commentaire,  p.  206, 

G  4  passions 


88  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

passions  in  society  and  in  domestic  life,  he  comes  in  the 
last  place  [from  1.  250  to  the  end]  to  shew  their  use  to 
the  individual,  even  in  their  illusions;  the  imaginary 
happiness  they  present  helping  to  make  the  real  miseries 
of  life  less  insupportable.  And  this  is  his  third  general 
division : 

—  Opinion  gilds  with  varying  rays 
Those  painted  clouds  that  beautify  our  days  : 
Each  want  of  happiness  by  hope  supply 'd, 
And  each  vacuity  of  sense  by  pride. 
These  build  as  fast  as  knowledge  can  destroy  : 
In  folly's  cup  still  laughs  the  bubble  joy  ; 
One  prospect  lost,  another  still  we  gain ; 
And  not  a  vanity  is  given  in  vain. 

Which  must  needs  vastly  raise  our  idea  of  God's  good 
ness,  who  hath  not  only  provided  more  than  a  counter 
balance  of  real  happiness  to  human  miseries,  but  hath 
even,  in  his  infinite  compassion,  bestowed  on  those,  who 
were  so  foolish  as  not  to  have  made  this  provision,  ar* 
imaginary  iiappiness  ;  that  they  may  not  be  quite  over 
borne  with  the  load  of  human  miseries.     This  is  the 
Poet's  great  and  noble  thought,  as  strong  and  solid  as  it 
is  new  and  ingenious.     But  so  strangely  perverse  is  hi* 
Commentator,  that  he  will  suppose  him  to  mean  any 
thing  rather  than  what  the  obvious  drift  of  his  argument 
requires  ;  yet,  to  say  truth,  cares  not  much  in  what  sense 
you  take  it,  so  you  will  beHeve  him  that  Mr.  Pope^s 
general  design  was  to  represent  human  life  as  one  grand 
illusion  fatally  conducted.     But  if  the  rules  of  logic  serve 
for  any  other  purpose  than  to  countenance  the  passions 
and  prejudices  of  such  writers,  it  may  be  demonstrated, 
that  what  the  Poet  here  teaches  is  only  this,  "  That  these 
0  illusions  are  the  follies  ef  men,  which  they  wilfully 
"  fall  into,  and  through  their  own  fault;  thereby  depriv- 
"  ing  themselves  of  much  happiness,  and  exposing  them- 
"  selves  to  equal  misery  :    But  that  still  God  (according 
"  to  his  universal  way  of  working)  graciously  turns  these 
"  follies  so  far  to  the  advantage  of  his  miserable  crea- 
fi  tures,  as  to  be  the  present  solace  and  support  of  their 
"  distresses," 

— -Tho'  Man's  a  fool,  yet  God  is  wise, 

LETTER 


MR.  POPES  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          89 


LETTER  III. 

WE  are  now  got  to  the  Third  Epistle  of  the  Essay  on 
Man.  Mr.  Pope,  in  explaining  the  origin,  use,  and  end 
of  the  passions,  in  the  second  Epistle,  having  shewn  that 
Man  has  social  as  well  as  selfish  passions  ;  that  doctrine 
naturally  introduceth  the  third,  which  treats  of  Man  as 
a  SOCIAL  animal ;  and  connects  it  with  the  second,  which 
considered  him  as  an  INDIVIDUAL.  And  as  the  con 
clusion  from  the  subject  of  the  First  Epistle  made  the 
Introduction  to  the  Second,  so  here  again,  the  conclusion 
of  the  Second, 

Ev'n  mean  self-love  becomes,  by  force  divine, 
The  scale  to  measure  others  wants  by  thine, 

makes  the  Introduction  to  the  Third : 

Here  then  we  rest ;  the  Universal  Cause 
Acts  to  one  end,  but  acts  by  various  laws. 

The  reason  of  variety  in  those  laws,  all  which  tend  to 
one  arid  the  same  end,  the  good  of  the  whole,  generally, 
is,  because  the  good  of  the  individual  is  likewise  to  be 
provided  for  ;  both  which  together  make  up  the  good  of 
the  whole  universally.  And  this  is  the  cause,  as  the 
Poet  says  elsewhere,  that 

Each  individual  seeks  a  several  goal.     Ep.  ii.  1.  227, 

But  to  prevent  their  resting  there,    God  has  made  each 
need  the  assistance  of  another :  and  so, 

On  mutual  wants,  built  mutual  happiness. 

Ep.  iii.  1.112. 

It  was  necessary  to  explain  these  two  first  lines,  the 
better  to  see  the  pertinency  and  force  of  what  follows 
[from  1.  2  to  7]  where  the  Poet  warns  such  to  take  notice 
of  this  truth,  whose  circumstances  placing  them  in  an 
imaginary  station  of  independence,  and  a  real  one  of 
insensibility  to  mutual  wants  (from  whence  general  hap 
piness  results)  make  them  but  too  apt  to  overlook  the 
true  system  of  things ;  such  as  those  in  full  health  and 
opulence.  This  caution  was  necessary  with  regard  to 

society ; 


go  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

society ;  but  still  more  necessary  with  regard  to  religion ; 
therefore  he  especially  recommends  the  memory  of  it 
both  to  clergy  and  laity,  when  they  preach  or  pray ;  be 
cause  the  preacher  who  does  not  consider  the  First  Cause 
under  this  view,  as  a  Being  consulting  the  good  of  the 
whole,  must  needs  give  a  very  unworthy  idea  of  him : 
And  the  supplicant,  who  prays  as  one  not  related  to  a 
whole,  or  as  disregarding  the  happiness  of  it,  will  not 
only  pray  in  t/fl/w,  but  offend  his  Maker,  by  an  impious 
attempt  to  counterwork  his  dispensation  : 

In  all  the  madness  of  superfluous  health, 
The  trim  of  pride,  the  impudence  of  wealth, 
Let  this  great  truth  be  present  night  and  day, 
But  most  be  present,  if  we  preach  or  pray. 

The  Translator,  not  seeing  into  the  admirable  purposes 
of  this  caution,  hath  quite  dropt  the  most  material  circum 
stances  contained  in  the  last  line  ;  and,  what  is  worse, 
for  the  sake  of  a  foolish  antithesis,  hath  destroyed  the 
whole  propriety  of  the  thought,  in  the  first  and  second, 
and  so,  between  both,  hath  left  his  Author  neither  sense 
nor  system, 

Dans  le  sein  du  bonheur,  ou  de  Cadcersitl. 

Now,  of  all  men,  those  in  adversity  have  the  least 
need  of  this  caution,  as  being  the  least  apt  to  forget  that 
God  consults  the  good  of  the  whole,  and  provides  Jor  it, 
by  procuring  mutual  happiness  by  means  of  mutual  wants: 
Because  such  as  yet  retain  the  smart  of  any  fresh  calamity 
are  most  compassionate  to  others  labouring  under  the 
same  misfortunes,  and  most  prompt  and  ready  to  relieve 
them. 

The  Poet  then  introduceth  his  system  of  human  soci 
ability  [1.  7,  8]  by  shewing  it  to  be  the  dictate  of  the 
Creator,  and  that  Man,  in  this,  did  but  follow  the  ex 
ample  of  general  nature,  which  is  united  in  one  clos& 
system  of  benevolence: 

Look  round  our  world  ;  behold  the  chain  of  love 
Combining  all  below,  and  all  above. 

This  he  proves,  Jirst  [from  1.  8  to  13]  (on  the  noble 
theory  of  attraction)  from  the  oeconomy  of  the  material 
world  i  where  there  is  a  general  conspiracy  in  all  the  parti 
cles 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          91 

cles  of  matter  to  work  for  one  end ;  the  use,  beauty,  and 
harmony  of  the  whole  mass. 

I. 

See  plastic  Nature  working  to  this  end, 
The  single  atoms  each  to  other  tend, 
Attract,  attracted  to,  the  next  in  place 
Formd  and  impelled  it's  neighbour  to  embrace. 

Formed  and  impelled,  says  he.  These  are  not  words 
of  a  loose  undistinguished  meaning,  thrown  in  to  fill  up 
the  verse.  This  is  not  our  Author's  way,  they  are  full  of 
sense ;  and  of  the  most  philosophical  precision.  For  to 
make  matter  so  cohere  as  to  fit  it  for  the  uses  intended  by 
its  Creator,  a  proper  configuration  of  its  insensible  parts 
is  as  necessary  as  that  quality  so  equally  and  universally 
conferred  upon  it,  called  attraction. 

But  here  again  the  Translator,  mistaking  this  descrip 
tion  of  the  preservation  of  the  material  universe  by  the 
principle  of  attraction,  for  a  description  of  its  creation, 
has  quite  destroyed  the  Poet's  fine  analogical  argument, 
by  which  he  proves,  from  the  circumstance  of  mutual 
attraction  in  matter,  that  man,  while  he  seeks  society, 
and  thereby  promotes  the  good  of  his  species,  co 
operates  with  God's  general  dispensation.  For  the  cir 
cumstance  of  a  creation  proves  nothing  but  a  Creator : 

Voi  du  sein  du  chaos  eclater  la  lumiere, 
%     Chaque  atome  ebranle  courir  pour  s'embrasser,  §c» 

The  Poet's  second  argument  [from  1.  1 2  to  27]  is  taken 
from  the  vegetable  and  animal  world;  whose  beings  serve 
mutually  for  the  production,  support,  and  susteatatiotl  of 
each  other. 

II. 

See  matter  next,  with  various  life  endued, 

Press  to  one  centre  still,  the  general  good", 

See  dying  vegetables  life  sustain, 

See  life  dissolving  vegetate  again : 

All  forms  that  perish,  other  forms  supply, 

By  turns  they  catch  the  vital  breath,  and  die ; 

Like  bubbles  to  the  sea  of  matter  born, 

They  rise,  they  break,  and  to  that  sea  return,  fyc. 

One 


92  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

One  would  wonder  what  should  have  induced  Mr.  FAbbi 
to  translate  the  two  last  lines,  thus : 

Sort  du  neant  y  rentre,  et  reparoit  au  jour. 
Comes  out  of  nothing)  and  enters  back  again  into  nothing. 

But  he  is  generally  as  consistently  wrong  as  his  author 
is  right.  For  having,  as  we  observed,  mistaken  the  Poet's 
account  of  the  preservation  of  the  material  world,  for 
the  creation  of  it ;  he  makes  the  very  same  mistake  with 
regard  to  the  vegetable  and  animal',  and  so  comes  in 
here  (indeed  rather  of  the  latest)  with  his  production  of 
things  out  of  nothing. 

I  should  not  have  taken  notice  of  this  mistake,  but  for 
Mr.  De  Crousazs  ready  remark.  "  Mr.  Pope,  says  he, 
"  descends  even  to  the  most  vulgar  prejudices  ;  when  he 
'f  tells  us,  that  each  being  comes  out  of  nothing,  the 
u  common  people  think  that  that  which  disappears  is 
"  annihilated.  The  atoms,  the  smallest  particles,  the 
"  roots  of  terrestrial  bodies  subsist*,"  fyc.  Rut  who  it 
is  that  descends  to  the  worst  vulgar  prejudices,  the 
reader  will  see  when  he  is  told  that  Mr.  De  Crousaz 
knew  very  well  that  Mr.  Pope  said  not  one  word  of  each 
being's  going  bach  into  nothing ;  both  from  his  not  finding 
it  in  the  prose  Translator,  and  from  J\emer$  confession 
in  his  preface,  that  he  had  taken  great  liberties  with  his 
original . 

.  But  this  part  of  the  argument,  in  which  the  Poet  tells 
us,  that  God 

Connects  each  Being,  greatest  with  the  least; 
Made  beast  in  aid  of  Man,  and  Man  of  beast ; 
All  servd,  all  serving 

awaking  again  the  old  pride  of  his  adversaries,  who  cannot 
bear  that  Alan  should  be  thought  to  be  serving  as  well  as 
served;  he  takes  this  occasion  again  to  humble  them 
[from  1.  26  to  53]  by  the  same  kind  of  argument  he  had 
so  successfully  employed  in  the  Jirst  Epistle,  and  which 
our  first  Letter  has  considered  at  large. 

However,  his  adversaries,  loth  to  give  up  the  question, 

*  Commentaire,  p.  22  r. 

will 


MR.  POPE'S   ESSAY  ON  MAN.          93 

will  reason  upon  the  matter;  and  we  are  now  to  suppose 
them  objecting  agair-t  Providence  in  this  manner  : — We 
grant,  say  they,  that  in  the  irrational,  as  in  the  inanimate 
creation,  all  is  served,  and  all  is  serving.  But,  with  regard 
to  Man,  the  case  is  different;  he  stands  single.  For  his 
reason  hath  endowed  him  both  with  power  and  address, 
sufficient  to  make  all  things  serve  him  ;  and  his  self-love, 
of  which  you  have  so  largely  provided  for  him,  will  dis 
pose  him,  in  his  turn,  to  serve  none.  Therefore  your 
theory  is  imperfect. — "  Not  so,  replies  the  Poet  [from 
"  1.  52  to  83] :  I  grant  you,  Man  indeed  affects  to  be  the 
**.zcit  and  tyrant  of  the  whole,  and  would  fain  shake  oiF 

• — That  chain  of  love, 
Combining  all  below  and  all  above ; 

"  But  Nature,  even  by  the  very  gift  of  reason,  checks 
"  this  tyrant :  For  reason  endowing  Man  with  the  ability 
<c  of  setting  together  the  memory  of  the  past,  and  con- 
"jecture  about  the  future ;  and  past  misfortunes  making 
"  him  apprehensive  of  more  to  come,  this  disposes  him 
"  to  pity  arid  relieve  others  m  estate  of  suffering.  And 
"  the  passion  growing  habitual,  naturally  extends  its 
*'  effects  tq  al}  that  have  a  sense  of  suffering.  Now  as 
"  brutes  have  neither  Man's  reason,  nor  his  inordinate 
<c  self-love  to  draw  them  from  the  system  of  benevolence, 
"  so  they  wanted  not,  arid  therefore  have  not,  this  hitman 
^  sympathy  of  another's  misery.  By  which  passion  we 
"  see  those  qualities,  in  Man,  balance  one  another,  and 
"  so  retain  him  in  that  general  order,  in  which  Providence 
"has  placed  its  whole  creation.  But  this  is  not  all; 
"  Man's  interest,  amusement,  vanity,  and  luxury,  tie 
"him  still  closer  to  the  system  of  benevolence,  by 
"  obliging  him  to  provide  for  the  support  of  otheV 
"  animals ;  and  though  it  be,  for  the  most  part,  only  to 
"  devour  them  with  the  greatest  gust,  yet  this  does  not 
61  abate  the  proper  happiness  of  the  animals  so  preserved, 
"  to  whom  Providence  has  not  given  the.  useless  know- 
"  ledge  of  their  end.  From  all  which  it  appears,  that 
"  the  theory  is  yet  uniform,  and  perfect. 

Grant  that* the  powerful  still  the  weak  controul, 
pe  Man  the  wit  and  tyrant  of  the  whole : 

Nature 


94  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

Nature  that  tyrant  checks ;  he  only  knows 
And  helps  another  creature's  wants  and  woes. 
Say,  will  the  falcon,  stooping  from  above, 
Smit  with  her  varying  plumage,  spare  the  dove? 
Admires  the  jay  the  insect's  gilded  wings, 
Or  hears  the  hawk  when  Philomela  sings  ? 

Man  cares  for  all,  §c. 

For  some  his  interest  prompts  him  to  provide, 
For  more  his  pleasure,  yet  for  more  his  pride. 

This  is  the  force  of  this  fine  and  noble  argument.  The 
senseless  and  scandalous  reflections  of  Mr.  De  Croitsaz 
on  the  latter  part  of  it,  I  have  refuted  in  my  former 
Letter. 

But  even  to  this,  as  a  caviller  would  still  object,  we 
must  suppose  him  so  to  do,  and  say — Admit  you  have 
shewn  that  Nature  hath  endowed  all  animals,  whether 
human  or  brutal,  with  such  faculties  as  admirably  fit 
them  to  promote  the  general  good;  yet,  in  its  care  for 
this,  hath  not  Nature  neglected  to  provide  for  the  private 
good  of  the  individual  ?  We  have  cause  to  think  it  hath, 
and  we  suppose  that  it  was  on  this  exclusive  consideration 
that  it  kept  back  from  brutes  the  gift  of  reason  (so 
necessary  a  means  of  private  happiness),  because  reason, 
as  we  find  in  the  instance  of  Alan,  where  there  is  occasion 
for  all  the  complicated  contrivance  you  have  described 
above,  to  make  the  effects  of  his  passions  counterwork 
the  immediate  powers  of  his  reason,  in  order  to  keep 
him  subservient  to  the  general  system;  reason,  we  say, 
naturally  tends  to  draw  beings  into  a  private,  independ 
ent  system. 

This  the  Poet  answers  by  shewing  [from  1.  82  to  109] 
that  the  happiness  of  animal  and  human  life  is  widely 
different.  The  happiness  of  human  life  consisting  in  the 
improvement  of  the  mind,  can  be  procured  by  reason 
only :  but  the  happiness  of  animal  life  consisting  in  the 
gratifications  of  sense,  is  best  promoted  by  instinct* 
And,  with  regard  to  the  regular  and  constant  operation 
of  each,  in  that,  instinct  hath  plainly  the  advantage ; 
for  here  God  directs  immediately  $  there,  only  mediately, 
through  Man : 

Reason, 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          95 

Reason,  however  able,  cool  at  best, 

Cares  not  for  service,  or  but  serves  when  prest ; 

Stays  till  we  call,  and  then  not  often  near; 

But  honest  instinct  comes  a  volunteer. 

And  reason  raise  o'er  instinct  as  you  can, 

In  this  'tis  God  directs,  in  that  'tis  Man. 

The  Commentator  (who  I  will,  in  charity,  suppose  saw 
nothing  of  this  fine  and  sober  reasoning,  nor  was  appre 
hensive  of  the  objection  which  occasioned  it,  though  that 
objection  arises  directly  from  the  subject)  accuseth  the 
Poet  of  designing  to  represent  brutes  as  perfect  as  Man^ 
who  is  (says'  he)  of  a  nature  susceptible  of  religion  *. 
But  if  our  Commentator  could  not  see  the  chain  of 
reasoning,  he  might  yet,  methinks,  have  attended  to  this 
plain  denunciation  of  the  Poet,  which  introduceth  the 
discourse  that  gives  him  so  much  offence  : 

Whether  with  reason  or  with  instinct  blest, 
Know  all  enjoy  the  power,  which  suits  them  best : 
To  bliss  alike  by  that  direction  tend, 
And  find  the  means  proportion  d  to  the  end. 

Which  shews  the  perfection  here  spoken  of  not  to  be  a 
perfection  equalled  to  that  of  another  being,  but  only  such 
an  one  as  is  proportioned  to  the  being  itself  of  whom  this 
perfection  is  predicated. 

The  Poet  now  comes  to  the  main  subject  of  his  Epistle, 
the  proof  of  Man's  SOCIABILITY,  from  the  two  general 
societies  composed  by  him;  the  NATURAL,  subject  to 
paternal  authority ;  and  the  CIVIL,  subject  to  that  of  a 
magistrate  i  which  he  hath  had  the  address  to  introduce, 
from  what  hail  preceded,  in  so  easy  and  natural  a  man 
ner,  as  shews  him  to  have  the  art  of  giving  all  the  grace 
to  the  dryness  and  severity  of  method,  as  well  as  wit  to 
the  strength  and  depth  of  reason.  For  the  philosophic 
nature  of  his  work  requiring  he  should  shew  by  what 
means  those  societies  were  introduced,  this  affords  him 
an  opportunity  of  sliding  gracefully  and  easily  from  the 
preliminaries  into  the  wain  subject ;  and  so  of  giving  his 
work  that  perfection  of  method,  which  we  find  only  in 
the  compositions  of  great  writers. 

For  having  just  beibre^though  to  a  different  purpose, 

*  Cbmmentaire,  p.  229. 

described 


96  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

described  the  power  of  bestial  instinct  to  attain  the  hap 
piness  of  the  individual,  he  goes  on  in  speaking  of  instinct 
as  it  is  serviceable  both  to  that,  and  to  the  kind  [from 
1.  108  to  148]  to  illustrate  the  original  of  society.  He 
shews,  that  though,  as  he  had  before  observed,  God  had 
founded  the  proper  bliss  of  each  creature  in  the  nature 
of  its  own  being,  yet  these  not  being  independent  indi 
viduals,  but  parts  of  a  whole,  God,  to  bless  that  whole, 
built  mutual  happiness  on  mutual  wants :  now  for  the 
supply  of  mutual  wants,  creatures  must  necessarily  come 
together;  which  is  the  first  ground  of  society  amongst 
men : 

Whatever  of  life  all-quickening  aether  keeps, 

Or  breathes  through  air,  or  shoots  beneath  the  deeps^ 

Or  pours  profuse  on  earth ;  one  Nature  feeds 

The  vital  flame,  and  swells  the  genial  seeds. 

Not  Man  alone,  but  all  that  roam  the  wood, 

Or  wing  the  sky,  or  roll  along  the  flood, 

Each  loves  itself,  but  not  itself  alone, 

Each  sex  desires  alike,  till  two  are  one. 

He  then  proceeds  to  that  called  natural,  subject  to 
paternal  authority,  and  arising  from  the  union  of  the  two 
sexes ;  describes  the  imperfect  image  of  it  in  brutes ; 
then  explains  it  at  large  in  all  its  causes  and  effects : 
and,  lastly,  shews,  that  as  IN  FACT,  like  mere  animal 
society,  it  is  founded  and  preserved  by  mutual  want?, 
the  supplial  of  which  causes  mutual  happiness ;  so  is  it 
likewise  in  RIGHT,  as  a  rational  society,  by  equity,  gra 
titude,  and  the  observance  of  the  relation  of  things  in 
general : 

Reflection,  reason,  still  the  ties  improve; 
At  once  extend  the  interest,  and  the  love : 
With  choice  we  fix,  with  sympathy  we  burn, 
Each  virtue  in  each  passion  takes  its  turn; 
And  still  new  needs,  new  helps,  new  habits,  rise, 
That  graft  benevolence  on  charities. 
MemVy  and  forecast  just  returns  engage, 
That  pointed  back  to  youth,  this  on  to  age  ; 
While  pleasure,  gratitude,  and  hope  combin'd, 
•  Still  spread  the  int'rest,  ane*  preserv'd  the  kind. 

But  the  Atheist  and  Ilobbist,  against  whom  Mr.  Pope 

writes, 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          97 

iVritcs,  deny  the  principle  of  7%/?£,  or  of  natural  justice, 
before  the  invention  of  civil  compact,  which,  they  say, 
gave  being  to  it:  And  accordingly  have  had  the  effrontery 
publicly  to  declare,  that  a  state  of  nature  teas  a  state  of 
war.  "This  quite  subverts  the  Poet's  natural  society: 
Therefore,  alter  his  account  of  that  state,  he  proceeds 
to  support  the  reality  of  it,  by  overthrowing  the  oppug* 
riant  principle  of  no  natural  justice;  which  he  does 
[from  1.  147  to  170]  by  shewing,  in  a  fine  description  of 
the  state  of  innocence,  as  represented  in  Scripture,  that 
a  state  of  nature  was  so  far  from  being  without  natural 
Justice,  that  it  was,  at  first,  the  reign  of  God,  where 
right  and  truth  universally  prevailed  : 

Nor  think,  in  Nature's  state  they  blindly  trod, 
The  state  of  Nature  was  the  reign  of  God. 
Self-love,  and  social,  at  her  birth  began, 
Union,  the  bond  of  all  things,  and  of  Man. 
Pride  then  was  not;  nor  arts,  that  pride  to  aid; 
Man  walk'd  with  beast,  joint  tenant  of  the  shade. 

Now  let  us  hear  Mr.  De  Crousaz,  who  tells  us,  he 
had  redoubled  his  attention  upon  this  Epistle*. — Mr.  Pope 
(says  he)  speaks  with  the  assurance  of  an  eye-witness  of 
what  passed  in  this  jirst  age  of  the  world'}. — And  why 
should  he  not,  when  conducted  by  his  faith  in  Scripture 
history  ? — That  which  he  here  represents,  says  he,  is 
much  less  credible  in  itself,  than  that  whieh  Moses 
teacheth  us^.  Now  what  must  we  think  of  our  Logician's 
faith,  who  taking  it  for  granted,  that  Mr.  Pope  would 
not  borrow  of  Moses,  has  here  condemned,  before  he 
was  aware,  the  credibility  of  Scripture  history?  For  the 
account  here  given  of  the  state  of  innocence  is  indeed  no 
other  than  that  of  Closes  himself. 

He  goes  on — This  religion,  common  to  brutes  ami  men, 
insinuates  to  us,  that,  in  those  happy  times,  men  had  no 
more  religion  than  brutes  |. 

This  shrewd  reflection  points  at  the  following  lines  : 

In  the  same  temple,  the  resounding  wood, 
All  vocal  beings  hyrnn'd  their  equal  God. 

But  does  not  the  Poet  speak,  in  this  very  place,  of 
Man,  as  officiating  in  the  priestly  office  at*  the  altar, 

*  Commentaire,  p.  218.          f  Ib.  p.  240. 
VG>L,  XI.  H  and 


98  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

and  offering  up  his  blameless  eucharistical  sacrifice  {9 
Heaven  ? 

The  shrine  with  gore  unstain'd,  with  gold  undrest, 
Unbrib'd,  unbloody,  stood  the  blameless  priest. 

As  to  the  line, 

All  vocal  beings  hymr/d  their  equal  God, 

our  Logician  should  be  sent  to  Scripture  for  its  meaning; 
who,  had  he  been  as  conversant  with  the  Psalmist  as 
with  Burgersdicius,  would  have  learned  to  have  judged 
more  piously  as  well  as  more  charitably.  The  inspired 
Poet  calling  to  mind  (as  Mr.  Pope  did  here)  the  age  of 
innocence,  and  full  of  the  great  ideas  of  those 

• Chains  of  love, 

Combining  all  below,  and  all  above ; 

which 

Draw  to  one  point,  and  to  one  centre  bring 
Beast,  man,  or  angel,  servant,  lord,  or  king ; 

breaks  out  into  this  rapturous  and  divine  apostrophe,  to- 
call  back  the  devious  Creation  to  its  pristine  rectitude ; 
That  very  state  Mr.  Pope  describes  above : — "  Praise 
"  the  Lord,  all  ye  angels:  praise  him,  all  ye  hosts. 
"  Praise  him,  sun  and  moon  :  praise  him,  all  ye  stars 
"  of  light.  Let  them  praise  the  name  of  the  Lord  :  for 
"  he  commanded,  and  they  were  created.  Praise  the 
'*  Lord  from  the  earth,  ye  dragons,  and  all  deeps:  Fire 
"  and  hail,  snow  and  vapour,  stormy  wind  fulfilling  hi& 
"  word :  Mountains  and  all  hills ;  fruitful  trees  and  all 
"  cedars  :  Beasts  and  all  cattle,  creeping  things,  and 
"'flying  fowl :  Kings  of  the  earth,  and  all  people ; 
"  princes,  and  all  judges  of  the  earth  :  Let  them  praise 
"  the  name  of  the  Lord ;  for  his  name  alone  is  excellent, 
"  his  glory  is  above  the  earth  and  heaven,"  Psalm 
cxlviii. 

To  return.  Strict  method  (in  which,  by  this  time,  the 
reader  finds  the  Poet  more  conversant  than  our  Logician 
was  aware  of)  leads  him  next  to  speak  of  that  society 
which  succeeded  the  natural,  namely,  the  civil.  But  as- 
lie  does  all  by  easy  steps,  in  the  natural  progression  of 
ideas,  he  first  explains  [from  1.  169  to  200]  the  inter 
mediate  means  widen  led  mankind  from  natural  to  civil 

society. 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN,          99 

Society.  These  were  the  invention  and improvement  of  arts. 
For  while  mankind  lived  in  a  mere  state  of  nature,  uncon 
scious  of  the  arts  of  life,  there  was  no  need  of  any  other 
government  than  the  paternal ;  but  when  arts  were  found 
out  and  improved,  then  that  more  perfect  form  under 
the  direction  of  a  magistrate  became  necessary.  And 
for  these  reasons;  First,  to  bring  those  arts,  already 
found,  to  perfection. ;  and,  Secondly,  to  secure  the  pro 
duct  of  them  to  their  rightful  proprietors.  The  Poet, 
therefore,  comes  now,  as  we  say,  to  the  invention  of 
arts ;  but  being  always  intent  on  the  great  end  for  which 
he  wrote  his  Essay,  namely,  to  mortify  thatj>rufe,  which 
occasions  the  impious  complaints  against  Providence,  he, 
with  the  greatest  art  and  contrivance,  speaks  of  these 
inventions,  as  only  lessons  learnt  of  mere  animals  guided 
by  instinct;  and  thus,  at  the  same  time,  gives  a  new 
instance  of  the  wonderful  providence  of  God,  who  has 
contrived  to  teach  mankind  in  a  way  not  only  proper  to 
humble  human  arrogance,  but  to  raise  our  idea  of  Infi 
nite  Wisdom  to  the  greatest  pitch.  All  this  he  does  in  a 
prosopopoeia  the  most  sublime  that  ever  entered  into  the 
human  imagination  : 

See  him  from  Nature  rising  slow  to  art ! 
To  copy  instinct  then  was  reason?,  part : 
Thus  then  to  Man  the  voice  of  Nature  spake — 
"  Go,  from  the  Creatures  thy  instructions  take ; 
'  Thy  arts  of  building  from  the  bee  receive, 
(  Learn  of  the  mole  to  plow,  the  worm  to  wqave ; 
:  Learn  of  the  little  nautilus  to  sail, 
"  Spread  the  thin  oar,  and  catch  the  driving  gale,  <§"& 
"  Yet  go  !  and  thus  o'er  all  the  creatures  Sway, 
*'  Thus  let  the  wiser  make  the  rest  obey, 
"  And  for  those  arts  mere  instinct  could  afford, 
"  Be  crown d  as  monarchy  of  as  gods  adord" 

The  delicacy  of  the  Poet's  address,  in  the  first  part  of 
the  last  line,  is  very  remarkable.  I  observed,  that,  in 
this  paragraph,  he  has  given  an  account  of  those  inter 
mediate  means  that  led  mankind  from  natural  to  civil 
society,  namely,  the  invention  and  improvement  of  arts. 
Now  here,  on  his  conclusion  of  this  account,  and  entry 
fcpon  the  description  of  c/r/7  society  itself,  he  connects 

H  2  the 


ioo  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

the  two  parts  the  most  gracefully  that  can  be  conceived, 
by  tliis  true  historical  circumstance,  that  it  was  the  in 
vention  of  those  arts,  which  raised  to  the  magistracy,  in 
this  new  society,  now  formed  for  the  perfecting  them. 

I  cannot  leave  this  part  without  taking  notice  of  the 
strange  turn  the  Translator  has  given  to  these  two  lines  : 

Thus  then  to  Man  the  voice  of  Nature  spake — 

"  Go,  from  the  Creatures  thy  instructions  take." 

La  Nature  indignt  alors  se  fit  entendre  ; 

Va,  malhcurau*  inortel,  va,  lui  clit-elle,  apprendre 

Des  pin*  vils  animaux. 

One  would  wonder  what  should  make  him  represent 
Nature  in  such  -a  passion  at  Man,  and  calling  him  names, 
•when  Mr.  Pope  supposes  her  in  her  best  good  humour, 
and  Man  the  most  happy  in  the  direction  here  given. 
But  what  led  him  into  this  mistake  was  another  full  as 
gross  :  Mr.  Pope  having  described  the  state  of  innocence, 
which  ends  at  these  lines, 

Heaven's  attribute  was  universal  care, 

And  Man's  prerogative  to  rule,  but  spare, 
turns  from  those  times  to  a  view  of  these  latter  ages,  and 
breaks  out  into  this  tender  and  humane  complaint : 

Ah,  how  unlike  the  Man  of  times  to  come  ! 

Of  half  that  live  the  butcher  and  the  tomb  ; 

Who,  foe  to  Nature,  hears  the  general  groan, 

Murders  their  species,  and  betrays  his  own,  <§r. 
Unluckily,  the  Translator  took  this  Man  of  times  to 
come,  lor  the  corrupter  of  that  first  age ;  and  so 
imagined  the  Poet  had  introduced  Nature  only  to  set 
things  right:  he  then  supposed,  of  course,  she  was  to  be 
very  angry,  and  not  finding  Mr.  Pope  had  represented 
her  in  any  great  emotion,  he  was  willing  to  improve  upon 
his  original.- 

To  proceed  :  After  all  this  necessary  preparation,  the 
Poet  shews  [from  1.  199.  to  211]  how  civil  society  fol 
lowed,  and  the  advantages  it  produced.  But  these  are 
best  described  in  Iris  own  words  : 

Great  Nature  spoke  ;  observant  Men  obey'd  ; 

Cities  were  built,  societies  v  ere  made  : 

Here  rose  one  little  state ;  another  near 

Grew  by  like  means,  and  join'd  through  love,  or  fear. 

Did 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.         101 

Did  here  the  trees  with  ruddier  burthens  bend, 
And  there  the  streams  in  purer  rills  descend  ? 
What  war  could  ravish,  commerce  could  bestow. 
And  he  returned  a  friend,  who  came  a  toe. 
Converse  and  love  mankind  might  strongly  draw, 
When  love  was  liberty,  and  nature  law. 

Thus  states  wer-e  form'cL 

Nothing  can  be  juster  than  this  account,  or  more  cor 
roborative  of  the  Poet's  general  theory.     Yet  his  Trans 
lator  has  a  strange  fatality  in  contradicting  him,  when 
ever  he  attempts  to  paraphrase  his  seme. 
The  first  line  Mr.  I- Abbe  turns  thus, 
Par  ces  mots  la  Nature  excita  Tindustrie, 
Et  de  £  Plommcferoce  cnchaina  la  June, 
Chained  up  the  fury  of  savage  Man, 
And  so  contradicts  his  Author's  whole  system  of  bencvo* 
fence,  and  goes  over  to  the  Atheist's,  who  supposes  the 
state  of  nature  to  be  a  state  of  tear,     That  which  seems 
to  have  misled  him  was  these  lines : 

What  war  could  ravish,  commerce  could  bestow, 
And  he  return'd  a  friend,  who  came  a  foe. 
But  the  Translator  should  have  considered,  that  though  his 
Author  maintains  a  state  of  nature  to  be  a  state  of  peace, 
yet  he  never  imagined  there  could  be  no  quarrels  in  it. 
He  well  knew,  that  self-love  drives  through  just  and 
through  unjust*.     He  pushes  no  system  to  an  extrava 
gance  ;  but  steers  between  doctrines  seemingly  opposite  f, 
or,  in  other  words,  follows  truth  uniformly  throughout. 

Having  thus  explained  the  original  of  civil  society,  he 
sliews  us  next  [from  1.  2 1  o  to  216]  that  to  this  society  a 
civil  magistrate,  properly  so  called,  did  belong:  and 
this,  in  confutation  of  that  idle  hypothesis  of  Filmer,  and 
others ;  which  pretends  that  God  conferred  the  regal 
title  on  thejathers  of  families,  from  whence  men,  when 
they  had  instituted  society,  were  to  fetch  their  magis 
trates.  On  the  contrary,  our  Poet  shews  that  a  king 
was  unknown  till  common  interest,  which  led  men  to  in 
stitute  civil  government,  led  them,  at  the  same  time,  to 
institute  a  governor.  However,  that  it  is  true  that  the 
wisdom  or  valour,  which  gained  regal  obedience 
*  Ef>,  iii.  1,  2/0.  t  See  Preface. 

H  3  from 


102  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

from  sons  to  the  sire,  procured  kings  a  paternal  authority, 
and  made  them  considered  as  J  at  hers  of  their  people. 
Which  probably  was  the  original  (and,  while  mistaken, 
continues  to  be  the  chief  support)  of  that  slavish  error  ; 
antiquity  representing  its  earliest  monarchs  under  the 
idea  of  a  common  father,  •ZJKTKP  uvfyw.  Afterwards 
indeed  they  became  a  kind  of  f  oxter  -fath  ers,  -voip^x 
Xauv,  as  Homer  calls  them  :  till  at  length  they  began  to 
devour  that  flock  they  had  been  so  Ipng  accustomed  to 
shear,  and,  as  Plutarch  says  of  Cecrops,  I*  %£*$•£ 
|3#<r*A£w?  aypiw  x$  £(>ZXQVTW£YI  ywoptvw  TTPANNON. 

—  the  name  of  king  unknown, 
Till  common  intVest  plac'cl  the  sway  in  one. 
Twas  Virtue  only  (or  in  arts,  or  arms, 
Diffusing  blessings,  or  averting  harms) 
The  same  which  in  a  sire  the  sons  obeyed, 
A  prince,  the  father  of  a  people  made. 
Our  Author  has  good  authority  for  his  account  of  the 
origin  of  kingship.  Aristotle  assures  us  of  this  truth,  that 
'Twas  Virtue  only  or  in  arts  or  arms.     CjAfcxb 

I*     TUV     ETTiEIXtol/     K&6*     UTTfOJ/     «3£T71?   ?J    T3'(X,£<*)V     TUV   (X.7TQ 


r  >c& 

The  Poet  now  returns  [at  1.  216  to  242]  to  what  he 
had  left  unfinished  in  his  description  of  natural  society. 
This,  which  appears  irregular,  is  indeed  a  fine  instance 
of  his  thorough  knowledge  of  the  art  of  method.  I  will 
explain  it. 

This  third  Epistle,  we  see,  considers  Man  with  re 
spect  to  society,  the  second,  with  respect  to  himself;  and 
the  fourth,  with  respect  to  happiness.  But  in  none  of 
these  relations  does  the  Poet  ever  lose  sight  of  him  under 
that  in  which  he  stands  to  GOD  ;  it  will  follow  therefore, 
that  speaking  of  him  with  respect  to  SOCIETY,  the  ac 
count  would  be  then  most  imperfect,  were  he  not  at  the. 
same  time  considered  with  respect  to  his  RELIGION;  for, 
between  these  two  there  is  a  close,  and,  while  things 
continue  in  order,  a  most  interesting  connexion. 

True  faith,  true  policy,  UNITED  ran; 

That  was  but  love  of  God,  and  this  of  Man.     1.  240= 

Now  religion  suffering  no  change,  or  depravation,  when 
*  Polit,  lib.  v.  c.  10. 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.         103 

Man  first  entered  into  civil  society,  but  continuing  the 
same  as  in  the  state  of  nature,  the  Poet,  to  avoid  repeti 
tion,  and  to  bring  the  accounts  of  true  and  false  religion 
nearer  to  one  another,  in  order  to  contrast  them  by  the 
advantage  of  that  situation,  .deferred  giving  account ,  of 
iiis  religion*  till  he  had  spoken  of  the  origin  of  that 
society.  Thence  it  is,  that  he  here  resumes  the  account 
«of  the  State  of  Nature,  that  is,  so  much  of  it  as  he  had 
left  untouched,  which  was  only  the  religion  of  it.  Ibis 
consisting  in  the  knowledge  of  .one  God,  the  Creator  of 
all  things,  the  Poet  shews  how  Men  came  by  that  know 
ledge.  That  it  was  either  found  out  by  REASON,  which, 
giving  to  every  effect  a  cause,  instructed  -them  to  go  from 
gmise  to  cause,  till  they  came  to  the  FIRST,  who  being 
causeless,  would  necessarily  be  judged  self-existent :  OF 
taught  by  TRADITION',  which  preserved  the  memory  of 
the  creation. — He  then  tells  us  what  these  Men,  unde- 
Jbauched  by  false  science,  understood  by  God's  NATURE 
;and  ATTRIBUTES.  \st,  Of  God's  mature-,  that  they 
easily  distinguished  between  the  Workman  and  the  work; 
-and  saw  the  substance  of  the  Creator  to  be  distinct  and 
different  from  that  of  the  ^creature.;  and  so  were  in  no 
danger  of  falling  into  the  horrid  opinion  of  the  Greek 
.philosophers,  and  their  follower  Spinoza.  And  simple 
reason  teaching  them,  that  the  Creator  was  but  one,  they 
easily  saw  that  all  teas  right',  and  were  in  as  little 
danger  of  falling  into  the  Manichean  error,  which,  when, 
oblique  ivit  Bad  broke  the  steady  light  of  reason,  imagined 
•all  was  not  right,  having  before  imagined  all  was  not  the 
work  of  One.  2dly,  What  they  understood  of  God's 
attributes ;  that  they  easily  conceived  a  father  where 
they  had  found  a  Deity,  and  that  a  sovereign  Being  coujcj 
only  be  a  sovereign  good. 

Tilt  then,  by  Nature  crowtfd,  each  patriarch  sate, 
King,  priest,  and  parent  of  his  growing  state : 
On  him,  their  second  Providence,  they  hung, 
Their  law  his  eye ;  their  oracle  his  tongue,  fyc. 
Till  drooping,  sick  ning,  dying,  they  began 
Whom  they  reyer'd  as  God,  to  mourn  as  Man, 

L 

Then,  looking  up  from  sire  to  sire,  explor'd 
One  great  first  Father,  and  that  first  ador'd. 

H  4  II.  Or 


104  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

II. 

Or  plain  tradition  that  this  all  begun, 
Convey 'cl  unbroken  faith  from  sire  to  son. 

I. 

The  Worker  from  the  work  distinct  was  known, 
And  simple  reason  never  sought  but  one. 
Ere  wit  oblique  had  broke  that  steady  light, 
Man,  like  his  Maker,  saw  that  all  was  right. 

II. 

To  virtue  in  the  paths  of  pleasure  trod, 
And  owii'd  a  Father  when  he  o\vifd  a  God. 
Love  all  the  faith,  fyc. 

Our  methodical  Translator,  pot  Apprehending  that  the 
Pof.-.t  was  here  returned  to  finish  his  description  of  the 
stale  of  nature,  has  fallen  into  one  of  the  grossest  mis^ 
takes  that  ever  was  committed,  lie  has  taken  this 
account  of  trite  r  digit- n,  for  an  account  of  the  or/gin  of 
idolatry,  and  thus  fatally  embellishes  his  own  blunder, 

Jaloux  d'en  conserver  les  traits  et  la  figure, 
Leur  zele  industrieux  invcnta  la  peinture. 
Leurs  neveux,  attentifs  a  ces  homines  fameux, 
Qui  par  le  droit  du  sang  avoient  regne  sur  eux, 
Trouvent-ils  dans  leur  suite  un  grand,  un  premier  pere, 
Leur  aveugle  respect  1'adore  et  ie  revere. 

Here  you  have  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of  reasoning  hi 
the  world,  turned,  at  once,  into  as  mere  a  heap  of  non 
sense.  You  \\  ill  wonder  how  it  came  about :  the  unlucky 
term  of  Great  jirst  Father  confounded  our  Translator, 
and  he  took  jt  to  signify  a  great-grandfather.  But  he 
should  have  considered  that  Mr.  Pope  always  represents 
God,  as  every  wise  and  good  Man  would  do,  and  as  our 
religion  directs  us  to  do,  under  the  idea  of  a  FATHER: 
Jhe  should  have  observed  that  the  Poet  is  here  describing 
those  men,  who 

To  virtue  in  the  paths  of  pleasure  trod, 

And  own'd  a  father,  where  they  own'd  a  God. 

You  may  be  sure  Mr.  De  Crousaz  has  not  let  these 
fine  strokes  about  the  original  of  painting  escape  him. 
l»ut  here  the  Critic  (which  is  a  wonder)  proves  clearer- 
gighted  than  the  Translator  j  he  saw  that  the  lines  in 

question 


MR.  POPFS  ESSAY  ON  MAN,        105 

question  were  a  continuation  of  something  not  immediately 
preceding  ;  but  that  was  all  he  saw,  as  may  appear  by 
liis  sagacious  remark.  "  We  shall  be  mistaken  (says  he) 
"  if  we  regard  this  passage  as  a  continuation  of  the 
"  history  immediately  going  before.  It  wouid  be  too 
"  irreat  an  anachronism  to  suppose  it.  The  government 
•"  of  fathers  oi  families  did  not  succeed  that  of  kings  \ 
41  on'  the  contrary,  the  reign  of  these  was  established  on 
'*  the  government  of  those*." 

Order  leads  the  Poet  to  speak  next  [from  1.  241  to 
240]  of  the  corruption  of  civil  society  into  tyranny,  and 
its  causes-,  and  here,  uith  all  the  art  of  address,  as  well 
as  truth,  he  observes,  it  arose  from  the  violation  of  that 
great  principle,  which  he  so  much  insists  upon  through 
put  his  Essay,  That  each  was  made  for  the  use  of  all: 

Who  first  taught  souls  enslav'd,  and  realms  undone, 
Th'  enormous  faith  of  many  made  for  one; 
That  proud  exception  to  all  Nature's  laws, 
T  invert  the  world,  and  counterwork  its  cause? 

And  in  this,  Aristotle  places  the  difference  between  a 
king  and  a  tyrant;  that  tlie  Jirst  supposes  himself  made 
for  the  people ;  the  other >  that  the  people  are  made  for 
fcirn  f- 

But  we  may  be  sure,  that  in  this  corruption,  where 
natural  justice  was  thrown  aside,  and  force,  the  Atheist's 
justice,  presided  in  its  stead,  religion  would  follow  the 
fate  of  civil  society.  We  know,  from  ancient  history,  it 
did  so.  Accordingly,  Mr.  Pope  [from  1.  24.)  to  270] 
with  corrupt  politics  describes  corrupt  religion  and  its 
causes;  he  Jirst  informs  us,  agreeable  to  his  exact  know 
ledge  of  antiquity,  that  it  was  the  POLITICIAN,  and  not 
the  PRIEST  (as  our  illiterate  tribe  of  Free-thinkers  would 
make  us  believe)  who  first  corrupted  religion.  Secondly, 
that  the  SUPERSTITION,  he  brought  in,  was  not  invented 
by  him,  as  an  engine  to  play  upon  others  (as  the  dreaming 
Atheist  feigns,  who  would  thus  miserably  account  for 
the  origin  of  religion),  but  was  a  trap  he  first  fell  into 
himself. 

*  Commentaire,  p.  249. 

•\  Btftola*  ^'  o  BAEIAETZ  eTj-at  0tfoa£,  owus  o*  (Av  Ktxbifjuvot  rocs  a<rta?f 
prffsv  a<5Wi>  tfffaxuciv,  o  $1  AJJ/*O?  /*»>  tGgtfleti  j^Qsv,  rjl  TYPANNIS,  -crgos 
v$tv  w7r&*Ag7Ti>  Hotyov;  il  pv  rns  t^»»c  wfsXiia?  p^u-.  Pol.  1.  v.  c.  10. 

Force 


too  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

Force  first  made  conquest,  and  that  conquest,  law; 

Till  .superstition  taught  the  tyrant  awe, 

Then  shard  tht  tyranny,  then  lent  it  aid, 

And  gods  of  conqu'rors,  slaves  of  subjects  made. 

All  this  is  agreeable  to  the  Poet's  vast  knowledge  of 
human  nature.  For  that  impotcncy  of  mind,  as  the  Latin 
writers  call  it*,  which  gives  birth  to  the  enormous  crimes 
accessary  to  support  a  tyranny,  naturally  subjects  its  ow7ner 
to  all  the  vaht,  as  well  as  real  terrors  of  conscience. 
Hence  the  whole  machinery  of  Superstition. 

She,  'midst  the  lightning's  blaze  and  thunder's  sound. 
When   rock'd  the  mountains,  awd  when  groan'd  tlie 

ground, 

She,  from  the  rending  earth  and  bursting  skies, 
Saw  gods  descend,  and  fiends  infernal  rise. 

And  it  is  no  wonder  that  those,  who  had  so  impiously 
attempted  to  counterwork  the  design  of  Nature,  by  acting 
as  if  many  mere  wade  for  one,  should  now  imagine  they 
saw  all  Nature  arming  in  vengeance  against  them. 

It  is  true,  the  Poet  observes,  that  afterwards,  when  the 
tyrant's  fright  was  over,  he  had  cunning  enough,  from  the 
experience  of  the  effect  of  superstition  upon  himself,  to 
turn  it  by  the  assistance  of  the  priest  (who  for  his  reward 
went  shares  with  him  in  the  tyranny)  as  his  best  defence 
against  his  subjects. 

With  Heaven's  own  thunders  shook  the  world  below, 
And  play'd  the  god  an  engine  on  his  foe. 

For  a  tyrant  naturally  and  reasonably  takes  all  his  slaves 
for  his  enemies. 

Having  given  the  causes  of  superstition,  he  next  de 
scribes  its  objects : 

Gods  partial,  changeful,  passionate,  unjust, 
Whose  attributes  were  rage,  revenge,  and  lust: 
Such  as  the  souls  of  cowards  might  conceive, 
And,  form'd  like  tyrants,  tyrants  would  believe. 
The  ancient  Pagan  gods  are  here  very  exactly  described. 
This  fact  is  a  convincing  evidence  of  the  truth  of  that 

*  They  expressed  the  passion  for  tyrannizing  by  this  word.  A  fine 
"Roman  historian  says  01  Mdr'ius,  that  he  was  gloria  imatiabilis^ 
IMFOTENS  semperque  inquittus.  -:*nd  of  Fowpey,  potcntid  svd  nun* 
aut  raro  ad  INPOTENTUM  usus. 

1 2  original 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.         107 

original  which  the  Poet  gives  to  superstition  :  for  if  these 
phantasms  were  first  raised  in  the  imagination  of  tyrants, 
they  must  needs  have  the  qualities  here  assigned  them. 
For  force  being  the  tyrant's  virtue,  and  luxury  his  hap 
piness,  the  attributes  of  his  god  would  of  course  be 
revenge  and  lust',  in  a  word,  the  antitype  of  himself. 
But  there  was  another,  and  more  substantial  cause,  of  the 
resemblance  between  a  tyrant  and  a  Pagan  god',  and 
that  was  the  making  gods  of  conquerors,  as  the  Poet  says, 
and  so  canonizing  a  tyrant's  vices  with  his  person.  That 
these  gods  should  suit  a  people  humbled  to  the  stroke  of 
a  master,  will  be  no  wonder,  if  we  recollect  a  generous 
saying  of  the  ancients', — That,  that  day  which  sees  a  man 
a  slave,  takes  away  half  his  virtue. 

The  inference  our  Poet  draws  from  all  this  [from 
1.  269  to  284]  is,  that  self-love  drives  through  right  and> 
wrong;  it  causes  the  tyrant  to  violate  the  rights  of 
mankind;  and  it  causes  the  people  to  vindicate  that 
violation.  For  self-love  being  common  to  the  whole 
species,  and  setting  each  individual  in  pursuit  of  the  same  , 
objects,  it  became  necessary  for  each,  if  he  would  secure 
his  own,  to  provide  for  the  safety  of  another's.  And 
thus  equity  and  benevolence  arose  from  that  same  self- 
love  which  had  given  birth  to  avarice  and  injustice. 

For  what  one  likes,  if  others  like  as  well, 
What  serves  one  will,  when  many  wills  rebel  ? 
How  shall  he  keep,  what,  sleeping  or  awake, 
A  weaker  may  surprise,  a  stronger  take  ? 
His  safety  must  his  liberty  restrain ; 
All  join  to  guard  what  each  desires  to  gain> 

The  Poet  hath  not  any  where  shewn  greater  address 
in  the  masterly  disposition  of  his  work,  than  with  regard 
to  the  inference  before  us  ;  which  not  only  gives  a  proper 
and  timely  support  to  what  he  had  before  advanced,  in 
his  second  Epistle,  concerning  the  nature  and  effects  of 
self-love ;  but  is  a  necessary  introduction  to  what  follows 
concerning  the  reformation  of  religion  and  society,  as  we 
shall  see  presently. 

The  Poet  hath  now  described  the  rise,  perfection,  and 
plecay  of  civil  policy  and  religion,  in  the  more  early  ages. 
But  the  design  had  been  imperfectly  executed,  had  he 

here 


io8  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

here  dropped  his  discourse;  there  was,  after  this,  a  reco 
very  from  their  several  corruptions.  Accordingly,  he 
hath  chosen  that  happy  period  for  the  conclusion  of  his 
song.  But  as  good  and  ill  governments  and  religions 
succeed  one  another  without  ceding,  he  now,  with  great 
judgment,  leaves  facts ,  and  turns  his  discourse  [from 
i.  283  to  296]  to  speak  of  a  more  lasting  reform  of 
mankind,  in  the  invention  of  those  philosophic  principles 
by  whose  observance  a  policy  and  religion  may  be  for 
ever  kept  from  sinking  into  tyranny  and  superstition. 

'  Twos  then  the  studious  head,  or  gen'rous  mind, 
Follower  of  God,  or  friend  of  human  kind, 
Poet  or  patriot,  rose  but  to  restore 
The  faith  and  morals,  Nature  gave  before ; 
Relumd  her  ancient  light,  not  kindled  new, 
If  not  God's  image,  yet  his  shadow  drew; 
Taught  power's  due  use  to  people  and  to  kings, 
Taught  not  to  slack,  nor  strain  its  tender  strings,  &$c. 

The  easy  and  just  transition  into  this  subject,  from  the 
foregoing,  is  admirable.  In  the  foregoing,  he  had  de 
scribed  the  effects  of  self-lffce ;  now  the  observation  of 
these  effects,  he,  with  great  art  and  high  probability, 
makes  the  occasion  of  those  discoveries,  which  speculative 
men  made  of  the  true  principles  of  policy  and  religion, 
described  in  the  present  paragraph ;  and  this  he  evidently 
hints  at  in  that  fine  transition, 

'TWAS  THEN  the  studious  head,  &;c. 

Mr.  De  Crousaz,  who  saw  nothing  of  this  beauty, 
says, —  It  is  not  easy  to  guess  to  what  epoch  Mr.  Pope 
would  have  us  refer  his  THEN*.  He  has  indeed  provec} 
himself  no  good  gucsser,  which  yet  is  the  best  quality 
of  a  critic.  I  will  therefore  tell  him  without  more  acio, 
Mr.  Pope  meant  the  polite  ansl flourishing  age  of  Greece; 
and  those  benefactors  to  mankind,  which,-  I  presume,  he 
had  principally  in  view,  were  Socrates  and  Aristotle,  who, 
of  all  the  Pagan  world,  spoke  best  of  God,  and  wrote 
best  of  government. 

Having  thus  described  the  true  principles  of  civil  and 
ecclesiastical  policy,  the  great  Poet  proceeds  [from  1.  295 

*  Commentaire,  p.  261. 

to 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.        109 

to  305]  to  illustrate  his  account  by  the  similar  harmony 
of  the  universe: 

Such  'is  the  world's  great  harmony,  that  springs 

From  union,  order,  full  consent  of  things! 

Where  small  and  great,  where  weak  and  mighty,  made, 

To  serve,  not  suffer,  strengthen,  not  invade ; 

More  powerful  each  as  needful  to  the  rest, 

And  in  proportion  as  it  blesses,  blest ; 

Draw  to  one  point,  and  to  one  centre  bring 

Beast,  man,  or  angel,  servant,  lord,  or  king. 

Thus,  as  in  the  beginning  of  this  Epistle,  he  supported 
the  great  principle  of  mutual  love  or  association  in 
general,  by  considerations  drawn  from  the  properties  of 
matter,  and  the  mutual  dependence  between  vegetable 
and  animal  life ;  so,  in  the  conclusion,  he  has  inforced 
the  particular  principles  of  civil  and  religious  society, 
from  that  universal  hanno.ni/  which  springs,  in  part,  from 
those  properties  and  dependencies. 

But  now  the  Poet,  having  so  much  commended  the  in 
vention  and  inventors  of  the  philosophic  principles  of  religion 
and  government,  lest  an  evil  use  should  be  made  of  this, 
by  men's  resting  in  theory  and  speculation,  as  they  have 
been  always  too  apt  to  do,  in  matters  whose  practice 
makes  their  happiness,  he  cautions  his  reader  [from 
1.  304  to  311]  against  this  error,  in  a  warmth  of  ex 
pression,  which  the  sublime  ideas  of  that  universal  har 
mony,  operating  incessantly  to  u.dversal  good,  had  raised 
up  in  him. 

Tor  forms  of  government  let  fools  contest; 
Whatever  is  best  administered  is  best. 
For  modes  of  faith  let  graceless  zealots  fight; 
His  can't  be  wrong,  whose  life  is  in  the  right. 
All  must  be  false,  that  thwart  this  one  great  end, 
And  all  of  God,  that  bless  mankind,  or  mend. 

The  seasonableness  of  this  reproof  will  appear  evident 
enough  to  those  who  know,  that  mad  disputes  about 
liberty  and  prerogative  had  once  well  nigh  overturned 
our  constitution  ;  and  that  others  about" mystery  and 
church  authority  had  almost  destroyed  the  very  spirit  of 
our  holy  religion. 

But  these  line  lines  have  been  strangely  misunderstood 

The 


no  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

The  Author,  against  his  own  express  words,  against  the 
plain  sense  of  his  system,  has  been  conceived  to  mean, 
tliat  all  governments  and  all  religions  were,  as  to  their 
forms  and  objects,  indifferent.  But  as  this  wrong  judg 
ment  proceeded  from  ignorance  of  the  reason  of  the 
reproof,  as  explained  above,  that  explanation  is  alone 
sufficient  to  rectify  the  mistake. 

However,  not  to  leave  him  under  the  least  suspicion^ 
in  a  matter  of  so  much  importance,  I  shall  justify  the 
sense  here  given  to  this  passage  more  at  large.  First  by 
considering  the  words  themselves:  and  then  by  comparing 
this  mistaken  sense  with  the  context 

The  Poet,  we  must  observe,  is  here  speaking,  not  of 
civil  society  at  large,  but  of  a.  just  legitimate  policy, 

Th' according  music  of  a  WELL-MIX'D  State. 

Nowr  these  are  of  several  kinds  ;  in  some  of  which  the 
democratic,  in  others  the  aristocratic,  and  in  others  the1 
monarchic  FORM  prevails.  Now  as  each  of  these  mivd 
forms  is  equally  legitimate,  as  being  founded  on  the 
principles  of  natural  liberty,  that  man  is  guilty  of  the 
highest  Jolly,  who  chuses  rather  to  employ  himself  in  a 
speculative  contest  for  the  superior  excellence  of  one  of 
these  forms  to  the  rest,  than  in  promoting  the  good  admi 
nistration  of  that  settled  form  to  which  he  is  subject. 
And  yet  all  our  warm  disputes  about  government  have 
been  of  this  kind.  Again,  if,  by  forms  of  government ^ 
inust  needs  be  meant  legitimate  government,  because 
that  is  the  subject  under  debate,  then  by  modes  of  faith, 
which  is  the  correspondent  idea,  must  needs  be  meant 
the  modes  or  explanations  of  the  true  faith,  because  the 
Author  is  here  too  on  the  subject  of  true  reHgioji] 

Relum'd  her  ancient  light,  not  kindled  new. 

Besides,  the  very  expression  (than  which  nothing  can  be 
more  precise)   confines  us  to  understand,  by  modes  of 
faith,  those  human  explanations  of  Christian  mysteries, 
in  contesting  which,  zeal  and  ignorance  have  so  perpe 
tually  violated  charity. 

Secondly,  If  we  consider  the  context ;  to  suppose  him 
to  mean,  that  all  forms  of  government  are  indifferent, 
is  making  him  directly  contradict  the  preceding  para 
graph;  where  he  extols  the  patriot  for  discriminating  the 

true 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.        in 

true  from  the  false  modes  of  government.    He,  says  the 

Poet, 

Taught  power's  due  use  to  people  and  to  kings, 
Taught  not  to  slack,  nor  strain  its  tender  strings ; 
The  less  and  greater  set  so  justly  true, 
That  touching  one  must  strike  the  other  too  • 
'Till  jarring  interests  of  themselves  create 
Th'  according  music  of  a  well-mlvd  State. 

Here  he  recommends  the  true  form  of  government, 
which  is  the  vmxt.  In  another  place  he  as  strongly 
condemns  the  false,  or  the  ahsolute  jure  d'vcino  form ; 

For  Nature  knew  no  right  divine  in  Men.     1.  237. 

To  suppose  him  to  mean,  that  all  religions  are  hidj/- 
ferent,  is  an  equally  wrong  as  well  as  uncharitable  sus 
picion.  Mr.  Pope,  though  his  subject  in  this  Essay  on 
Man  confines  him  to  natural  religion  (his  purpose  being 
to  vindicate  God's  natural  dispensations  to  mankind 
against  the  Atheist),  yet  gives  frequent  intimations  of  a 
more  sublime  dispensation,  and  even  of  the  necessity  of  it ; 
particularly  in  his  second  Epistle  [1.  1 39],  where  he  speaks 
of  the  weakness  and  insufficiency  of  human  reason*. 

Again,  in  his  fourth  Epistle  [1.  331]  speaking  of  the 
good  man,  the  favourite  of  Heaven,  lie  says, 

For  him  alone,  hope  leads  from  goal  to  goal, 
And  opens  still,  and  opens  on  his  soul  ; 
Till  lengthened  on  to  faith,  and  unconfin'd, 
It  pours  the  bliss  that  fills  up  all  the  mind. 

But  natural  religion  never  lengthened  hope  on  to  faith1; 
nor  did  any  religion,  but  the  Christian,  ever  conceive  that 
faith  could  fill  the  mind  with  happiness. 

Lastly,  The  Poet,  in  this  very  Epistle,  and  in  this  very 
place,  speaking  of  the  great  restorers  of  the  religion  of 
Nature,  intimates  that  they  could  only  draw  God's  shadow^ 
not  his  image : 

o 

Relum'd  her  ancient  light,  not  kindled  new, 
If  not  God's  image,  yet  his  shadow  drew. 
As  reverencing  that  truth,  which  tells  us  that  this  disco 
very  was  reserved  for  the  glorious  Gospel  of  Christ,  who 
is  the  IMAGE  OF  GOD  f. 

*  See  the  second  Letter,  pp.  8or  81.  f  <z  Cor.  iv.  4. 

Havin 


112  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

Having  thus  largely  considered  Man  in  his- social  capa-> 
city,  the  Poet,  in  order  to  fix  a  momentous  truth  in  the 
mind  of  his  reader,  concludes  the  Epistle  in  recapitulating 
the  two  principles  which  concur  to  the  support  of  this 
part  of  his  character,  namely,  self-face  and  social;  and 
shewing  that  they  are  only  two  different  motions  of  the 
appetite,  to  good,  by  which  the  Author  of  Nature  has 
enabled  Man  to  find  his  own  happiness  in  the  happiness 
of  the  whole.  This  the  Poet  illustrates  with  a  thought 
as  sublime  as  is  that  general  harmony  he  describes ; 

On  their  own  axis  as  the  planets  run, 

Yet  make  at  once  their  circle  round  the  sun ; 

So  two  consistent  motions  act  the  soul, 

And  one  regards  itself,  and  one  the  whole. 

Thus  God  and  Nature  link'd  the  general  frame, 

And  bad  se If- love  and  social  be  the  same. 

For  he  hath  the  art  of  converting  poetical  ornaments 
into  philosophic  reasoning ;  and  of  improving  a  simile 
into  an  analogical  argument.  But  of  this  art,  more  in 
our  next. 


LETTER 

THE  Poet,  in  the  two  foregoing  Epistles,  having  con 
sidered  MAN  with  regard  to  the  m IVANS  (that  is,  in  all 
his  relation.^  whether  as  an  individual,  or  a  member  of 
societij)  comes  now,  in  this  last,  to  consider  him  with 
regard  to  the  END,  that  is,  HAPPINESS. 

It  ppens  wit han  invocation  to  happiness,  in  the  manner 
of  the  ancient  poets,  who,  when  destitute  of  a  patron 
god.  appli<  d  to  the  Must,  and,  if  she  was  engaged,  took 
up  with  any  simple  virtue,  next  at  hand,  to  inspire  and 
prosper  their  designs.  This  was  the  ancient  invocation, 
which  few  modern  poets  have  had  the  art  to  imitate  with 
any  degree  of  spirit  or  decorum;  while  our  Author, 
not  content  to  heighten  this  poetic  ornament  with  the 
graces  of  the  antique,  hath  also  contrived  to  make  it 
subservient  to  the  method  and  reasoning  of  his  philoso 
phic  composition.  I  will  endeavour  to  explain  so  un 
common  a  beauty. 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.        113 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  Pagan  deities  had  each 
their  several  names  and  places  of  abode,  with  some  of 
which  they  were  supposed  to  be  more  delighted  than  with 
others,  and  consequently  to  be  then  most  propitious 
when  invoked  by  the  favourite  name  and/;/#ce:  hence  we 
find  the  hymns  of  Homer,  Orpheus,  and  Callimachus,  to 
be  chiefly  employed  in  enumerating  the  several  names 
and  places  of  abode  by  which  the  patron  god  wras  dis 
tinguished.  Now,  our  Poet,  with  great  and  masterly 
address,  hath  made  these  tzvo  circumstances  serve  to 
introduce  his  subject,  according  to  the  exactest  rules  of 
logic.  His  purpose  is  to  write  of  happiness'.,  method 
therefore  requires  that  he  first  define  what  men  mean  by 
happiness,  and  this  he  does  in  the  ornament  of  a  poetic 
invocation  : 

O  happiness !  our  being's  end  and  aim, 

Good,  pleasure,  ease,  content !  whate'er  thy  NAME. 

After  the  DEFINITION,  that  which  follows  next,  in 
order  of  method,  is  the  PROPOSITION,  which  here  is, 
that  human  happiness  consist  snot  in  external  advantages, 
but  in  virtue.  For  the  subject  of  this  Epistle  is  the 
detecting  the  false  notions  of  happiness,  and  settling  and 
explaining  the  true',  and  this  the  Poet  lays  down  in  the 
next  sixteen  lines.  Now  the  enumeration  of  happinesses 
several  supposed  places  of' abode  (which,  in  imitation  of 
the  ancient  Poets,  he  next  mentions  in  the  invocation, 
and  which  makes  ten  of  the  sixteen  lines)  is  a  summary 
of  false  happiness,  placed  in  externals : 

Plant  of  celestial  seed  !  if  dropt  below, 
Say  in  what  mortal  soil  thou  deign'st  to  grow? 
Fair  opening  to  some  court's  propitious  shine, 
Or  deep  with  diamonds  in  the  flaming  mine? 
Twin'd  with  the  wreaths  Parnassian  laurels  yield, 
Or  reap'd  in  iron  harvests  of  the  field  ? 

The  six  remaining  lines  deliver  the  true  notion  of 
happiness  to  be  in  virtue.  Which  is  summ'd  up  in  these 
two ; 

Fixt  to  no  spot  is  happiness  sincere, 

'Tis  no  where  to  be  found,  or  every  where. 

The  Poet,  having  thus  defined  his  terms,  and  laid  down 
VOL.  XL  I  his 


ii4  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

his  proposition,  proceeds  to  the  support  of  his  thesis* 
the  various  arguments  of  which  make  up  the  body  of  the 
Epistle. 

He  begins  [from  1.  18  to  27]  with  detecting  the  false 
notions  of  happiness.  These  are  of  two  kinds,  the  phi 
losophical  and  popular:  the  latter  he  had  recapitulated 
in  the  invocation,  when  happiness  was  call'd  upon  at  her 
several  supposed  places  of  abode ;  the  philosophic  then 
only  remained  to  be  delivered. 

Ask  of  the  learn  d  the  way,  the  learn'd  are  blind. 
This  bids  to  serve,  and  that  to  shun  mankind  : 
Some  place  the  bliss  in  action,  same  in  ease ; 
Those  call  it  pleasure,  and  contentment  these. 

The  confutation  of  these  philosophic  errors,  he  shews 
to  be  very  easy,  one  common  fallacy  running  through 
them  all ;  namely  this,  That,  instead  of  telling  us  in  what 
the  happiness  of  human  nature  consists,  which  was  what 
was  asked  of  them,  each  busies  himself  to  explain  in 
what  he  placed  his  own  peculiar  happiness: 

Who  thus  define  it,  say  they  more  or  less 
Than  this,  that  happiness-  is  happiness  ? 

And  here,  before  we  go  any  farther,  it  will  be  proper 

to  turn  to  our  Logician,  who,  blind  to  these  beauties  in 

the  admirable   disposition  of  the  subject,  is   extremely 

scandalized  at  the  Poet  for  not  proceeding  immediately  to 

explain  true,  happiness  (after  having  defined   his  terms 

and  delivered  his  thesis)  but  for  going  back  again  (as  he 

fancies)  to  a  consideration  of  the  false. — Speaking  of  the 

sixteen  lines,  he  says, — c(  Happiness  is  then  near  me? 

"  and  I  feel  myself  considerably  refreshed;  but,  by  ill 

"  luck,  it  is  only  for  a  moment,  my  doubts  presently 

"return,  and  I  find  myself  in  the  hands  of  a  Poet,  who 

"  can  do  what  he  will  with  me,  and  who,  having  placed 

"  me  on  the  very  borders   of  happiness,   on  a  sudden 

"  shuts  up  all  its  avenues*." 

But  a  very  little  patience  and  impartiality  would  have 
shewn  him,  that  they  were  immediately  laid  open  again 
in  the  very  next  lines  [from  26  to  33]  where  the  Poet 
shews,  that  if  you  will  but  take  the  road  of  nature,  and 
leave  that  of  mad  opinion,  you  will  soon  find  happiness 
*  Commentaire,  p.  2/1. 

b 


MR.  POPE'S   ESSAY  ON  MAN.        115 

to  be  a  good  of  the  species,  and,  like  common  sense, 

equally-distributed  to  all  mankind: 

Take  Nature's  path,  and  mad  opinion's  leave, 
All  states  can  reach  it,  and  all  heads  conceive ; 
Obvious  her  goods,  in  no  extreme  they  dwell, 
There  needs  but  thinking  right,  and  meaning  well; 
And,  mourn  our  various  portions  as  we  please, 
Equal  is  common  sense,  and  common  ease. 

But  this  is  so  far  from  satisfying  our  bully-critic,  that 
it  only  furnishes  him  with  fresh  matter  for  a  quarrel. 
He  is  "much  offended  at  the  two  first  lines.  "  — I  must 
"  here  renew  my  complaints.  Take  Nature's  path,  you 
"say;  and  what  am  I  to  understand  by  this  Nature? 
"  Must  I  take  the  reasonable  nature  for  my  guide  ?  But, 
"  according  to  you,  the  philosophers  have  consulted  it  to 
"  no  purpose.  Shall  I  give  myself  up  to  the  animal 
"nature?  This  would  soon  reduce  me  to  great  dis- 
"  tresses. — Encompassed  with  doubts  and  difficulties, 
"  what  have  1  left,  but  to  suffer  myself  to  be  borne  away 
"  by  chance  or  hazard?  And  to  conclude,  that  the 
"  counsel  here  given  of  taking  Natures  path,  comes  at 
."  length  to  this,  to  march  steadily  on  in  the  footsteps  of 
*<  fatality*." 

It  would  be  hard  indeed,  if  our  Commentator  could 
not  find  the  road  fa  fatality,  in  every  step  the  Poet  takes. 
But  here,  in  avoiding  the  horns  of  his  own  chimerical 
dilemma,  he  jumps  upon  it  more  aukwardly  than  usual. 
The  Poet,  says  he,  must  either  mean  the  reasonable,  or 
the  animal  nature.  Agreed.  He  could  not  mean  the 
animal  nature.  This  too  is  true.  Nor  the  reasonable. 
Why  not?  Because  it  stood  the  philosophers  in  no  stead. 
What  then?  Do  you  think  he  has  ever  the  worse  opinion 
of  it  on  that  account  ?  They  could  not  possibly  have  run 
into  more  mistakes  about  happiness,  than  you  have  about 
the  Poet's  meaning:  And  yet,  for  all  that,  J  apprehend 
he  will  think  never  the  worse,  either  of  reason  or  himself. 

But  what  is  indeed  incredible,  after  Mr.  De  Crousaz 
had  thus  commented  the  two  first  lines,  he  goes  on  with 
his  remarks  on  the  immediately  following,  Obvious  her 
goods,  &;c.  in  these  words:  "  See  Mr.  Pope  once  again 

*  Commentaire,  pp.  272,  273. 

I  2  "  under 


no  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

"  under  the  necessity  of  restoring  rsason  to  its 
Prodigious !  It  seems  then,  after  all,  Mr.  Pope  by  Na 
tures  path,  did  indeed  mean  the  reasonable  nature.  For 
we  now  see  it  was  Mr.  De  Crousaz,  not  Mr.  Pope,  that 
was  under  the  necessity  of  restoring  reason  to  its  rights. 

To  proceed :  the  Poet  having  exposed  the  two  false 
species  of  happiness,  the  PHILOSOPHICAL  and  POPULAR, 
and  denounced  the  true,  in  order  to  establish  the  last, 
goes  on  to  a  confutation  of  the  two  former. 

I.  He  first  [from  1.  32  to  47]  confutes  the  PHILOSO 
PHICAL,  which,  as  we  said,  makes  happiness  a  particular, 
not  a  general  good  :  and  this  two  ways  : 

1 .  From  his  grand  principle,  That  God  acts  by  general 
laws  :  the  consequence  of  which  is,  that  happiness,  which 
supports  the  well-being  of  every  system,  must  needs  he, 
universal,  and  not  partial,   as  the    philosophers    con 
ceived  : 

Remember,  Man !  the  universal  Came 
Acts  not  by  partial,  but  by  genral  laws ; 
And  makes,  what  happiness  we  justly  call, 
Subsist  not  in  the  good  of  one,  but  all. 

2.  From  fact,  That  Man  instinctively  concurs  with 
this  designation  of  Providence,  to   make  happiness  uni 
versal,  by  his  having  no  delight  in  any  tiling  uncommn^ 
nicated  or  unconimunicable : 

There's  not  a  blessing  individuals  find, 
But  some  way  leans  and  hearkens  to  the  kind. 
No  bandit  fierce,  no  tyrant  mad  with  pride, 
No  cavern'd  hermit  rests  self-satisfied. 
Abstract  what  others  feel,  what  others  think, 
All  pleasures  sicken,  and  all  glories  sink, 

II.  The  Poet,  in  the  second  place  [from  1,  46  to 
65]  confutes  the  POPULAR  error  concerning  happiness, 
namely,  that  it  consists  in  externals:  which  he  does, 

i .  By  inquiring  into  the  reasons  of  the  present  provi 
dential  disposition  of  external  goods:  a  topic  of  conno 
tation  chosen  with  the  greatest  accuracy  and  penetration* 
For,  if  it  appears  they  were  distributed  in  the  manner  we* 
see  them,  for  reasons  different  from  the  happiness  of 

indhiduahy 
*  Gommentaire,  p.  281. 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.         117 

individuals,  it  is  absurd  to  think  that  they  should  make 
jjart  of  that  happiness. 

He  shews,  therefore,  that   disparity  of  external  pos 
sessions  among  men  was   for  the  sake  of  society,   I.  to 
'promote  the  harmony  and  happiness  of  a  system: 

Order  is  Heaven's  first  law  ;  and,  this  contest, 
Some  are,  and  must  be,  greater  than  the  rest, 
More  rich,  more  wise, — 

Because  the  want  of  external  goods  in  some,  and  the 
abundance  in  others,  increase  general  harmony  in  the 
obliger  and  obliged. 

Yet  here  (says  he)  mark  the  impartial  wisdom  of 
Heaven;  this  very  inequality  of  externals,  by  contributing 
•to  general  harmony  and  order,  produceth  an  equality 
of  happiness  amongst  individuals ;  and,  for  that  very 
reason, 

Heaven  to  mankind  impartial  we  confess, 

If  all  are  equal  in  their  happiness : 

But  mutual  wants  this  happiness  increase, 

All  Nature's  difference  keeps  all  Nature's  peace. 

Condition,  circumstance,  is  not  the  thing: 

Bliss  is  the  same,  in  subject,  or  in  king; 

In  who  obtain  defence,  or  who  defend ; 

In  him  who  is,  or  him  who  finds,  a  friend. 

Heaven  breathes  thro'  every  member  of  the  whole 

One  common  blessing  as  one  .common  soul. 

2.  This  disparity  was  necessary,  because,  if  external 
goods  were  equally  distributed,  they  would  occasion  per 
petual  discord  amongst  men  all  equal  in  power  : 

But  fortune's  gifts  if  each  alike  possest, 
And  each  were  equal,  must  not  all  contest  ? 

From  hence  he  concludes,  That,  as  external  good? 
were  not  given  for  the  reward  of  virtue,  but  for  many 
different  purposes,  God  could  not,  if  he  intended  hap 
piness  for  all,  place  it  in  the  enjoyment  of  externals : 

If  then  to  all  men  happiness  wras  meant, 
God  in  externals  could  not  place  content. 
2.  His  second  argument  [from  1.  64  to  71]  against  the 
popular  error  of  happiness 's  being  placed  in  externals, 
is,  that  the  possession  of  them  is  inseparably  attended 

1 3  with 


US  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

with  fear,  the  want  of  them  with  hope  ;  which  directly 
crossing  all  their  pretensions  to  making  happy,  evidently 
shew  that  God  had  placed 'happiness  elsewhere: 

Fortune  her  gifts  may  variously  dispose, 

And  these  be  happy  call'd,  unhappy  those ; 

But  Heaven's  just  balance  equal  will  appear, 

Yv  hile  those  are  plac'd  in  HOPE,  and  these  in  FEAR  : 

Not  present  good  or  ill,  the  joy  or  curse, 

But  future  views  of  better  or  of  worse. 

Hence,  in  concluding  this  argument,  he  takes  occasion 
[from  1.  70  to  75]  to  upbraid  the  desperate  folly  and  im 
piety,  of  those,  who,  in  spite  of  God  and  Nature,  will 
yet  attempt  to  place  happiness  in  externals. 

0  sons  of  earth  !  attempt  ye  still  to  rise, 

By  mountains  pil'd  on  mountains,  to  the  skies? 
Heaven  still  with  laughter  the  vain  toil  surveys, 
And  buries  madmen  in  the  heaps  they  raise. 

1  must  not  here  omit  to  observe,  that  the  Translator 
(unconscious  of  all  this  fine  reasoning  between  the  32d 
and  75th  lines,  where  the  Poet  first  confutes  the  philoso 
phic  errors  concerning  happiness,  and  next  the  popular) 
hath   strangely  jumbled   together   and    confounded   his 
different  arguments  on  these  two  different  heads.     But 
this  is  not  the  worst;  he  hath  perverted  the  Poet's  words 
to  a  horrid  and  senseless  fatalism,  foreign  to  the  argu 
ment  in  hand,  and  directly  contrary  to  Mr.  Popes  general 
principles. 

The  Poet  says, 

Remember,  Man  !  the  universal  Cause 
Acts  not  by  partial,  but  by  general  laws. 

His  Translator, 

Une  loi  generate 

Determine  toujours  la  cause  principale. 

That  is,  a  general  law  ever  determines  the  principal  cause, 
which  is  the  very  fate  of  the  ancient  Pagans,  who  sup 
posed  that  destiny  gave  law  to  the  Father  of  gods  and 
men. 

The  Poet  says  again, 

Order  is  Heaven's  first  law : 

That 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.         119 

That  is,  the  first  law  made  by  God,  relates  to  order ; 
which  is  a  beautiful  allusion  to  the  Scripture  history  of  the 
Creation,  when  God  first  appeased  the  disorders  of  chaos, 
and  separated  the  light  from  the  darkness.  Let  us  now 
hear  his  Translator : 

L'ordre,  cet  inflexible  et  grand  legislateur, 
Qui  des  decrets  du  Ciel  est  le  premier  auteur : 
Order,  that  InjlexMe  and  grand  legislator,  who  is  the 
first  author  of  the   laics  of  Heaven.     A  proposition 
abominable  in  most  senses,  and  absurd  in  all. 

But  now  what  says  Mr.  De  Cronxaz  to  this,  who  is 
perpetually  crying  out,  fate !  fate  !  as  men  in  distraction 
call  outjire  ?  The  reader  will  be  surprised  to  hear  him 
pass  this  cool  reflexion  on  two  so  obnoxious  passages — 
"  This  Order,  the  first  author  of  laws,  presents  us  zcith 
very  harsh  expressions,  and  bold  ideas,  which  Mr.  Pope 
elsewhere  condemns  as  rash  and  unjustifiable  *.  But  this 
is  his  moderation,  when  Mr.  L'Abbe  comes  under  his 
critique :  And  we  know,  the  excellent  prose  translation 
gave  him  the  advantage  of  knowing  whom  he  had  to  do 
with. 

To  proceed :  the  Poet  having  thus  confuted  the  two 
errors  concerning  happiness,  PHILOSOPHICAL  and  POPU 
LAR,  and  proved  that  true  happiness  was  neither  solitary 
and  partial,  nor  yet  placed  in  externals;  goes  on  from 
1.  74  to  91]  to  shew  in  what  it  doth  consist,  lie  nad 
before  said  in  general,  and  repeated  it,  thai  happiness  lay 
in  common  to  the  whole  spf  cies.  He  now  brings  us 
better  acquainted  with  it,  in  a  more  explicit  informs  jn 
of  its  nature ;  and  tells  us,  it  is  ail  contained  in  health, 
peace,  and  competence;  but  that  these  are  to  be  gu;  led 
only  by  VIRTUE,  namely,  by  temperance,  innocence,  and 
industry  : 

Reason's  whole  pleasures,  all  the  joys  of  sense, 
Lie  in  three  words,  health,  peace,  and  competence. 
But  health  consists  with  temperance  alone, 
And  peace,  O  Virtue !  peace  is  all  thy  own. 

The  first  line, 

Reasons  whole  pleasures,  all  the  joys  of  sense, 

is  the  most  beautiful  paraphrasis  for  happiness;  for  all 

*  Commemaire,  p,  282. 

1 4  we 


120  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

we  feel  of  good  is  by  sensation  and  reflexion.  The 
Translator,  who  seemed  little  to  concern  himself  with 
the  Poet's  philosophy  or  argument,  mistook  this  descrip 
tion  of  happiness  tor  a  description  of  the  intellectual  and 
sensitive  j  acuities,  opposed  to  one  another ;  and  there 
fore  thus  translates  it : 

Le  charme  seducteur,  dont  s'enyvrant  les  sens, 
Les  plaisirs  de  1'esprit  encore  plus  ravissans. 

And  so,  with  the  highest  absurdity,  not  only  makes  the 
Poet  constitute  senmal  excesses  a  part  of  human  happi 
ness,  but  likewise  the  product  of  virtue. 

After  this,  we  shall  no  longer  wonder  at  such  kind  of 
translations  as  the  following  : 

Mr.  Pope  says, 

And  peace,  O  Virtue !  peace  is  all  thy  own. 

The  Translator, 

Pour  vous,  O  paix  du  coeur,  digne  fille  des  Cieux, 
Vous  etes  du  bonheur  le  gage  precieux. 

Conscious  innocence,  says  the  Poet,  is  the  only  source 
of  internal  peace,  and  known  innocence  of  external-, 
therefore  peace  is  the  sole  issue  of  virtue  ;  or,  in  his  own 
emphatic  words,  peace  is  ALL  thy  own ;  a  conclusive 
observation  in  his  argument.  O  peace,  says  the  Trans 
lator,  thou  art  the  precious  pledge  oj  happiness -,  an  ob 
servation,  which  concludes  no  more  than  that  the  Trans 
lator  did  not  understand  the  argument,  which  stands 
thus:— Is  happiness  rightly  placed  -in  externals?  No, 
for  it  consists  in  health,  peace,  and  competence.  Health 
and  competence  are  the  product  of  temperance  and  in 
dustry  ;  and  peace,  of  perfect  innocence. 

But  hitherto,  the  Poet  hath  only  considered  health 
and  peace : 

But  health  consists  with  temperance  alone, 
And  peace,  O  Virtue !  peace  is  all  thy  own. 

One  head  yet  remains  to  be  spoken  to,  namely,  compe 
tence.  In  the  pursuit  of  healt h  mid  peace,  there  is  no 
danger  of  running  into  excess.  But  the  case  is  different 
with  regard  to  competence.  Here,  wealth  and  affluence 
.would  be  too  apt  to  be  mistaken  for  it,  in  men's  passion- 
l  ate 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.         121 

ate  pursuit  of  external  goods.  To  obviate  this  mistake, 
therefore,  the  Poet  shews,  that,  as  exorbitant  wealth 
adds  nothing  to  the  happiness  arising  from  a  competence, 
so,  as  it  is  generally  ill  gotten,  it  is  attended  with  circum 
stances  that  weaken  another  part  of  this  triple  cord, 
namely,  peace: 

The  good  or  bad  the  gifts  of  fortune  gain  ; 

But  these  less  taste  them  as  they  worse  obtain. 

Say,  in  pursuit  of  profit  or  delight, 

Who  risk  the  most,  that  take  wrong  means  or  right? 

Of  vice  or  virtue,  whether  blest  or  curst, 

Which  meets  contempt,  or  which  compassion  first  ? 

Count  all  th'  advantage  prosperous  vice  attains, 

'Tis  but  what  virtue  flies  from,  and  disdains  ; 

And  grant  the  bad  what  happiness  they  would, 

One  they  must  want,  which  is,  to  pass  for  good. 

Here  Mr.  De  Crousaz's  remarks  are  indeed  very  ex 
traordinary — "  To  whom  (says  he)  are  these  interro- 
"  gatories  addressed? — If  you  refer  yourself  to  thejudg- 
"  ment  of  a  troop  of  young  libertines,  such  as  are  to  be 
"  found  in  great  cities,  and  in  armies,  you  will  certainly 
"  not  have  the  laughers  on  your  side*,"  fyc.  What 
then  ?  If  reason  require  they  should,  is  not  that  sufficient 
for  the  Poet's  purpose,  in  a  discourse  where  reason  is 
continually  appealed  to,  in  a  controversy  between  him 
and  them  ?  But  our  Logician's  perversity  is  without  ex 
ample.  Till  rio\v,  his  quarrel  with  the  Poet  was,  that 
his  arguments  flattered  the  corrupt  sentiments  of  libertin 
ism.  At  present  he  is  as  captious  with  him  for  their  op 
posing  those  sentiments.  Does  not  this  look  as  if  he 
were  resolved  to  approve  of  nothing  Mr.  Pope  could 
say? 

Our  Author  having  thus  largely  confuted  the  mistake 
of  happiness  s  consisting  in  externals,  proceeds  to  expose 
the  terrible  CONSEQUENCES  of  such  an  opinion,  on  the 
sentiments,  and  practice  of  all  sorts  of  men,  making  the 
DISSOLUTE  impious  and  atheistical,  the  RELIGIOUS  un 
charitable  and  intolerant,  and  the  GOOD  restless  and  dis 
content.  For  when  it  is  once  taken  for  granted,  that 
happiness  consists  in  externals,  it  is  immediately  seen 

*  Commentaire,  p.  289,  290. 

thai 


122  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

that  ill  men  are  often  more  happy  than  good;  which  sets 
ail  conditions  on  objecting  to  the  ways  of  Providence, 
and  some  even  on  rashly  attempting  to  rectify  its  dispen 
sations,  though  by  the  violation  of  law,  divine  and  human. 
Now  this  being  the  most  momentous  part  of  the  subject 
under  consideration,  is  deservedly  treated  most  at  large. 
And  here  it  will  be  proper  to  take  notice  of  the  exquisite 
art  of  the  Poet,  in  making  this  confutation  serve,  at  the 
same  time,  for  a  full  solution  of  all  objections  which 
might  be  made  to  his  main  proposition,  that  happiness 
consists  not  in  externals. 

I.  He  begins,  first  of  all,  with  the  ATHEISTICAL  com- 
plainer.?,  and  pursues  their  impiety  [from  1.  90  to  i2q] 
with  all  the  vengeance  of  his  eloquence. 

Oh  blind  to  truth,  and  God's  whole  scheme  below  ! 
Who  fancy  bliss  to  vice,  to  virtue  woe  : 
Who  sees  and  follows  that  great  scheme  the  best, 
Best  knows  the  blessing,  and  will  most  be  blest. 

He  exposes  their  folly,  even  on  their  own  notions  of 
external  goods: 

i.  By  examples  [from  line  96  to  109]  where  he  shews 
first,  that,  if  good  men  have  been  untimely  cut  off,  this 
is  riot  to  be  ascribed  to  their  virtues,  but  to  a  contempt 
of  life  that  hurried  them  into  dangers.  Secondly,  That 
if  they  will  still  persist  in  ascribing  untimely  death  to 
virtue,  they  must  needs,  on  the  same  principle,  likewise 
ascribe  long  lije  to  it.  Consequently  as  the  argument, 
in  fact,  concludes  both  ways,  in  logic,  it  concludes 
neither. 

But  fools  the  good  alone  unhappy  call, 

From  ills  or  accidents  that  chance  to  all. 

Say,  was  it  virtue,  more  though  Heaven  ne'er  gave, 

Lamented  Digby!  sunk  thee  to  the  grave? 

Tell  me,  if  virtue  made  the  son  expire, 

Why  full  of  days  and  honour  lives  the  sire  ? 

Why  drew  Marseilles  good  bishop  purer  breath, 

When  nature  sicken'd,  and  each  gale  was  death  ? 

Or  why  so  long  (in  life  if  long  can  be) 

Lent  Heaven  a  parent  to  the  poor,  and  me  ? 

This  last  instance  of  the  Poet's  illustration  of  the  ways 
of  Providence,  the  reader  sees,  has  a  peculiar  elegance; 

where 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.         123 

where  a  tribute  of  piety  to  a  parent  is  paid  in  a  return  of 
thanks  to  [Lent  Heaven  a  parent,  &c.]  and  made  sub 
servient  of  [Or  ichy  so  long — J  his  vindication  ofj  the 
Great  Father  of  all  things. 

•2.  He  exposes  their  tolly  [from  line  108  to  129]  by  * 
considerations  drawn  from  the  system  of  Nature ;  and 
these,  two-fold,  natural  and  moral.  You  accuse  God, 
says  the  Poet,  because  the  good  man  is  subject  to 
natural  and  moral  evil  :  Let  us  see  whence  these  pro 
ceed.  Natural  evil  is  the  necessary  consequence  of  a 
material  world  so  constituted :  But  that  this  constitution 
was  best,  we  have  proved  in  the  first  Epistle.  Moral 
evil  ariseth  from  the  depraved  will  of  Man  :  Thereto  re, 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  from  God. 

What  makes  all  physical  or  moral  ill  ? 

There  deviates  Nature,  and  here  wanders  Will. 

God  sends  not  ill,  if  rightly  understood  ; 

Or  partial  ill  is  universal  good  ; 

Or  chance  admits,  or  Nature  lets  it  fall, 

Short,  and  but  rare,  till  Man  improv'd  it  all. 

i 

But  you  say  (adds  the  Poet,  to  these  impious  corn- 
plainers)  that  though  it  be  fit  Man  should  suffer  the 
miseries  which  he  brings  upon  himself,  by  the  commission 
of  moral  evil,  yet  it  seems  to  be  unfit  his  innocent  pos 
terity  should  be^ar  a  share  of  them.  To  this,  says  he,  I 
reply, 

We  just  as  wisely  might  of  Heaven  complain 
That  righteous  Abel  was  destroy 'd  by  Cain, 
As  that  the  virtuous  Son  is  ill  at  ease, 
When  his  lewd  Father  gave  the  dire  disease. 

But  you  will  still  say  (continues  the  Poet)  why  does 
not  God  either  prevent,  or  immediately  repair  these  evils? 
You  may  as  well  ask,  why  he  cloth  not  work  continual 
miracles,  and  every  moment  reverse  the  established  laus 
of  Nature ; 

Shall  burning  2Etna,  if  a  sage  requires, 
Forget  to  thiuder,  and  recal  her  fires  ? 
On  air  or  sea  new  motions  be  imprest, 
O  blameless  Bethel!  to  relieve  thy  breast  ? 

When 


«4  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

When  the  loose  mountain  trembles  from  on  high, 
Shall  gravitation  cease,  if  you  go  by  ? 
Or,  some  old  temple  nodding  to  its  fall, 
For  Chart  res'  head  reserve  the  hanging  wall  ? 

This  is  the  force  of  the  Poet's  reasoning,  and  these  the 
n  to  whom  he  adresses  it,  namely,  the  libertbie  cavil 
lers  against  Providence. 

II.  But  now,  so  unhappy  is  the  condition  of  our  cor 
rupt  nature,  that  these  are  not  the  only  complainers. 
Religious  men  are  but  too  apt,  if  not  to  speak  out,  yet 
sometimes  secretly  to  murmur  against  Providence,  and 
say,  its  way*  are  not  equal :  Especially  those  more  ,  in 
ordinately  devoted  to  a  sect  or  party  are  scandalized,  that 
the  JUST  (for  such  they  esteem  themselves)  who  are  to 
judge  the  world,  have  no  better  portion  in  their  own 
inheritance.  The  Poet  therefore  now  leaves  those  more 
profligate  cornplainers,  and  turns  [from  1.  128  to  147]  to 
the  religion^  in  these  words  : 

But  still  this  world  (so  fitted  for  the  knave) 
Contents  us  not.     A  better  shall  we  have  ? 
A  kingdom  of  the  just  then  let  it  be, 
Eut  first  consider  how  those  just  agree. 
As   the  more  impious  cornplainers  wanted   external 
•goods  to  be  the  reward  of  virtue  for  the  moral  man  ;    so 
these  want  them  for  the  pious,  in  order  to  have  a  kingdom 
of  the  just.    To  this  the  Poet  holds  it  sufficient  to  answer.: 
Pray,    gentlemen,  first  agree  amongst  yourselves,  who 
•those  just  are.     We  allow, 

The  good  must  merit  God's  peculiar  care, 
But  who  but  God  can  tell  us  who  they  are? 
One  thinks  on  Calvin  Heaven's  own  Spirit  fell. 
Another  deems  him  instrument  of  hell : 
If  Calrin  feels  Heaven's  blessing  or  its  rod, 
This  cries,  There  is,  and  that,  There  is  no  God. 
As  this  is  the  case,  he  even  bids  them  rest  satisfied; 
remember  his  fundamental  principle,  That  whatever  is, 
is  rivht ;  and  content  themselves  (as  their  religion  teaches 
them  to  profess  a  more  than  ordinary  submission  to  the 
ways  of  Providence)  with  that  common  answer  which  he 
with  so  much  reason  and  piety  gives  to  every  kind  of 

•complainer. 

However, 


MR,  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.          125 

However,  though  there  be  yet  no  kingdon  of  the  ju$t, 
there  is  still  no  kingdom  of  the  unjust.  That  both  the- 
mrtuom  and  the  vicious,  whatsoever  becomes  of  those 
whom  every  sect  calls  the  jaitkfitl,  have  their  shares  in 
external  goods  ;  and,  what  is  more,  the  virtuous  Lav 
infinitely  the  most  enjoyment  in  them  : 

—This  w^orldj  'tis  true, 
Was  made  for  Casar,  but  for  Titus  too  : 
And  which  more  blest  ?  who  chained  his  country,  sayr 
Or  he  whose  virtue  sigh'd  to  lose  a  day  ? 

I  have  been  the  more  careful  to  explain  this  last  argu 
ment,  and  to  shew  against  whom  it  is,  directed,  because 
much  depends  upon  it  for  the  illustration  of  the  sense; 
and  the  just  defence  of  the  Poet.  For  if  we  suppose  him 
still  addressing  himself  to  those  impious  complainers, 
confuted  in  the  thirty-eight  preceding  lines,  we  should 
make  him  guilty  of  a  paralogism  in  the  argument  about 
the  just,  and  in  the  illustration  of  it  by  the  case  of  Calvin, 
For  then  the  libertines  ask,  Why  the  just,  that  is,  the 
moral  man,  is  not  rewarded  ?  The  answer  is,  That  none 
bat  God  can  tell  who  the  just,  that  is,  the  truly. faithful 
man,  is.  Where  the  term  is  changed,  in  order  to  sup 
port  the  argument  j  for  about  the  truly  moral  man  there 
is  no  dispute ;  about  the  truly  faithful,  or  the  orthodox, 
a  great  deal.  But  take  the  Poet  right,  as  arguing  here 
against  religious  complainers,  and  the  reasoning  is  strict 
and  logical.  They  ask,  Why  the  truly  faithful  are  not 
rewarded  ?  lie  answers,  They  may  be  for  aught  you  know, 
for  none  but  God  can  tell  who  they  are.  Mr.  De  Crou- 
sax's  objections  to  this  reasoning  receive  all  their  force 
from  that  wrong  supposition,  That  the  Poet  was  here 
arguing  against  libertine  complainers  ;  and  consequently 
they  have  no  force  at  all. 

III.  The  Poet  haying  dispatched  these  two  species  of 
complainers,  comes  now  to  the  third  and  still  more 
pardonable  sort,  the  discontented  good  men,  who  lament 
only,  that  virtue  starves,  while  vice  riots.  To  these  the 
Poet  replies  [from  1.  146  to  1,5.5]  that  admit  this  to  be 
the  case,  yet  they  have  no  reason  to  complain,  either  of 
the  good  man's  lot  in  particular,  or  of  the  dispensation  of 
Providence  in  general  Not  of  the  former^  because 

happiness* 


126  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

happiness,  the  reward  of  virtue,  consists  not  in  externals ; 
nor  of  the  latter,  because  ill  men  may  gain  wealth  by 
commendable  industry,  good  men  want  necessaries  through 
indolence  or  bad  conduct. 

But  as  modest  as  this  complaint  seems  at  first  viewr, 
the  Poet  next  shews  [from  1.  1 54  to  1 65]  that  it  is  founded 
on  a  principle  of  the  highest  extravagance,  which  will 
never  let  the  discontented  good  man  rest,  till  he  becomes 
as  vain  and  foolish  in  his  imaginations  as  the  very  worst 
sort  of  complainers.  For  that  when  once  he  begins  to 
think  he  wants  what  is  his  due,  he  will  never  know  where 
to  stop,  while  God  has  any  tiling  to  give. 

But  this  is  not  all ;  he  proves  next  [from  1.  i  ^4  to  i  7.5] 
that  these  demands  are  not  only  unreasonable,  but  in  the 
highest  degree  ahxiird  like' vise.  For  that  those  very 
goods,  if  granted,  would  be  the  destruction  of  that  virtue 
for  which  they  are  demanded  as  a  reward.  He  concludes 
therefore  on  the  whole,  that, 

What  nothing  earthly  gives,  or  can  destroy, 

The  soul's  calm  sunshine,  arid  the  heart-felt  joy, 

Is  Virtue's  prize. — 

'But  the  Poet  now  enters  more  at  large  upon  the 
matter  :  and  still  continuing  his  discourse  to  this  third 
sort  of  complainers  (whom  he  indulges  as  much  more 
pardonable  than  the  first  or  second,  in  rectifying  all  their 
doubts  and  mistakes)  proves  both  from  reason  and  exam 
ple,  how  unable  any  of  those  things  are,  which  the  world 
most  admires,  to  make  a  good  man  happy.  For,  as  to 
the  philosophic  mistakes  concerning  happiness,  there 
behi£  little  danger  of  their  making  a  general  impression, 
the  Poet,  after  a  short  confutation,  had  dismissed  them 
altogether.  But  external  goods  are  those  syrens,  which 
so  bewitch  the  world  with  dreams  of  happiness,  that  of 
al things  the  most  difficult  is,  to  awaken  it  out  of  its 
delusions;  though,  as  he  proves,  in  an  exact  review  of 
the  most  pretending,  they  dishonour  bad  men,  and  add 
no  lustre  to  the  good.  That  it  is  only  this  third  and  least 
criminal  sort  of  complainers,  against  which  the  remaining 
part  of  the  discourse  is  levelled,  appears  from  the  Poet's 
so  frequently  addressing  himself,  while  he  inforces  his 
arguments  in  behalf  of  Providence,  from  henceforward 
to  his  friend, 

I.  He 


MR.  POPE'S   ESSAY  ON  MAN.         127 

I.  He  begins  therefore  [from  line  17410  195]  with 
considering  RICHES,  i.  He  examines,  first,  what  there 
is  of  rail  value  in  them,  and  shews,  they  ean  give  Use 
good  man  only  that  very  contentment  he  had  before,  or, 
at  most,  but  burthen  him  with  a  trust  to  be  dispensed  for 
the  benefit  of  others: 

For  riches,  can  they  give  but  to  the  just 
•    His  own  contentment,  or  another s  trust  ? 
Since  the  good  man  esteems  all,  beside  what  is  sufficient 
to   supply  him   with   the  convenicncies    of  life,   as  en 
trusted  to  him  by  Providence,  for  the  supplial  of  others 
necessities. 

It  is  true,  he  tells  us  elsewhere,  that  another  sort  of 
good  men  are  of  a  different  opinion  : 

The  grave  Sir  Gilbert  holds  it  for  a  rule, 
That  every  man  in  want  is  kncrce  or  fool: 
God  cannot  love  (says  "Blunt,  with  lifted  eyes) 
The  wretch  he  starves — and  piously  denies. 

Of  the  Use  of  Riches,  I  103. 

And  these   are  they  to  whom  he  here  alludes,   where. 

lie  says, 

O  fool !  to  think  God  hates  the  worthy  mind, 
The  lover,  and  the  love,  of  human  kind, 
Whose  life  is  healthful,  and  whose  conscience  clear, 
Because  he  wants  a  thousand  pounds  a  year ! 

The  Poet  next  examines  the  imaginary  value  of  riches, 
as  the  fountain  of  honour.  For  his  adversaries  objection 
stands  thus  : — As  honour  is  the  genuine  claim  of  virtue, 
and  shame  the  just  retribution  of  vice  ;  and  as  honour 9 
in  their  opinion,  follows  riches,  and  shame  poverty ;  there 
fore  the  good  man  should  be  rich.  He  tells  them  in  this 
they  are  much  mistaken : 

Honour  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise; 

Act  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honour  lies. 
What  power  then  has  fortune  over  the  Man?  None  at 
all.  For,  as  her  favours  can  confer  neither  worth  nor 
wisdom-,  so  neither  can  her  displeasure,  cure  him  of  any 
of  his  follies.  On  his  garb  indeed  she  has  some  little 
influence ;  but  his  heart  still  remains  the  same  : 

Fortune  in  Men  has  some  small  difference  made, 

Qneflauntrin  rags,  one  flutters  in  brocade. 

II.  Thea, 


128  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

II.  Then,  as  to  NOBILITY,  by  creation  or  birth,  this 
too  he  shews  [from  1.  195  to  207]  is,  in  itself,  as  devoid 
of  all  real  worth  as  the  rest :  because,  in  the  Jirst  case 
the  title  is  generally  gained  by  no  merit  at  all : 

Stuck  o'er  with  titles,  and  hung  round  with  strings, 
That  tliou  may'st  be  by  kings,  or  whores  of  kings. 
In  the  second,  by  the  merit  of  the  first  founder  of  the 

family,  which  will  always,  when  reflected   on,  be  rather 

the  subject  of  mortification  than  glory : 
Go !  if  your  ancient,  but  ignoble,  blood 
Has  crept  through  scoundrels  ever  since  the  flood, 
Go!  and  pretend  your  family  is  young; 
Nor  oun  your  fathers  have  been  fools  so  long. 

III.  The  Poet  in  the  next  place  [from  1.  206  to  227] 
unmasks  the  false  pretences  of  GREATNESS,  whereby  it 
is  seen  that  the  hero  and  politician  (the  two  characters 
which  would   monopolize  that  quality)   after   all    their 
bustle,  effect  only  this,  if  they  want  virtue,  that  the  one 
proves  himself  a  fool,  and  the  other  a  knave:  and  virtue 
they  but  too  generally  leant.     The  art  oj  heroism  being 
understood  to  consist  in  ravage  and  desolation :  and  the 
art  of  politics,  in  circumvention.     Now 

—Grant  that  those  can  conquer,  these  can  cheat, 
'Tis  phrase  absurd  to  call  a  villain,  great : 
Who  wickedly  is  wise,  or  madly  brave, 
Is  but  the  more  afoot,  the  more  a  knave. 
It  is  not  success  therefore  that  constitutes  true  great 
ness',  but  the  end  aimed  at-,  and  the  means  which  are 
employed:  and  if  these  be  right,  glory  will  be  the  reward, 
whatever  be  the  issue: 

Who  noble  ends  by  noble  means  obtains, 
Or  failing,  smiles  in  exile  or  in  chains, 
Like  good  Aurdius  let  him  reign,  or  bleed 
Like  Socrates,  that  man  is  great  indeed. 

IV.  With  regard  to  FAME,  that  still  more  fantastic 
blessing,   he  shews  [from  1.  226  to  249]  that  all  of  it, 
besides  what  we  hear  ourselves,  is  merely  nothing;  and 
that  even  of  this  small  portion,  no  more  of  it  gives  the 
possessor  a  real  satisfaction,  than  what  is  the  fruit  of 
virtue. 

All 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.         129 

All  fame  is  foreign,  but  of  true  desert, 
Plays  round  the  head,  but  comes  not  near  the  heart. 
Thus  he  shews,  that  honour,  nobility,  greatness,  glory, 
so  far  as  they  have  any  thing  real  and  substantial,  that 
is,-  so   far  as   they  contribute   to   the  happiness  of  the 
possessor,  are  the  sole  issue  of  virtue,  and  that  neither 
riches,  courts,  armies,  nor  the  populace,   are  capable  of 
conferring  them. 

V.  But  lastly,  the  Poet  proves  [from  1.  248  to  259] 
that  as  no  external  goods  can  make  Man  happy,  so 
neither  is  it  in  the  power  of  all  internal.  For,  that  even 
SUPERIOR  PARTS  bring  no  more  real  happiness  to  the 
possessor,  than  the  rest,  nay,  put  him  into  a  worse  con 
dition  ;  for  that  the  quickness  of  apprehension,  and  depth 
of  penetration,  do  but  sharpen  the  miseries  of  life : 

In  parts  superior,  what  advantage  lies? 
Tell  (for  you  can)  what  is  it  to  be  wise  ? 
*Tis  but  to  know  how  little  can  be  known; 
To  see  all  others  faults,  and  feel  our  own,  §c. 
Painful  pre-eminence !  yourself  to  view 
Above  life's  weakness,  and  its  COMFORTS  too. 

This  to  his  friend — nor  does  it  at  all  contradict  what  he 
had  said  to  him  concerning  happiness,  in  the  beginning 
of  the  Epistle: 

"Tis  never  to  be  bought,  but  always  free, 

And,  fled  from  monarchs,  St.  John!  dwells  withthee. 

For  he  is  now  proving  that  nothing  either  external  to 
Man,  or  what  is  not  in  his  own  power,  and  of  his  own 
acquirement,  can  make  him  happy  here.  The  most 
plausible  rival  of  virtue  is  knowledge.  Yet  even  this,  he 
says,  is  so  far  from  giving  any  degree  of  real  happiness, 
that  it  deprives  men  of  those  common  comforts  of  life, 
which  are  a  kind  of  support  to  us  under  the  want  of 
happiness:  such  as  the  more  innocent  of  those  delusions 
which  he  speaks  of  in  the  second  Epistle,  where  he 
ys,^ 

Till  then,  opinion  gilds  with  varying  rays 
Those  painted  clouds,  that  beautify  our  days,  $c. 

1.  265. 
VOL.  XL  K  Now 


130  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

Now  knowledge  (as  is  here  said)  destroys  all  those 
comforts,  by  setting  Man  above  life's  weaknesses :  so  that 
in  him,  who  thinks  to  attain  happiness  by  knowledge,  the 
fable  is  reversed,  and  in  a  preposterous  attempt  to  gain 
the  substance,  he  loses  even  the  shadow.  This  I  take  to 
be  the  true  sense  of  this  fine  stroke  of  satire,  on  the 
wrong  pursuits  after  happiness. 

Having  thus  proved  how  empty  and  unsatisfactory  all 
these  greatest  external  goods  are,  from  an  examination  of 
their  nature,  the  Poet  proceeds  to  strengthen  his  argu 
ment  [from  L  258  to  299]  by  these  two  farther  con 
siderations, 

1st,  That  the  acquirement  of  these  goods  is  made 
with  the  loss  of  one  another ;  or  of  greater,  either  as 
inconsistent  with  them,  or  as  spent  in  attaining  them : 

How  much  of  other  each  is  sure  to  cost; 
How  each  for  other  oft  is  wholly  lost ; 
How  inconsistent  greater  goods  with  these; 
How  sometimes  life  is  risk'd,  and  always  ease. 

2dly,  That  the  possessors  of  each  of  these  goods  are 
generally  such  as  are  so  far  from  raising  envy  iu  a  good 
man,  that  he  would  refuse  to  take  their  persons,  though 
accompanied  with  their  possessions.  And  this  the  Poet 
illustrates  by  examples : 

Think,  and  if  still  the  things  thy  envy  call, 

Say,  would'st  thou  be  the  man  to  whom  they  fall?  <§^» 

3dly,  Nay,  that  even  the  possession  of  them  all 
together,  where  they  have  excluded  virtue,  only  terminates 
in  more  enormous  misery  : 

If  all,  united,  thy  ambition  call, 
From  ancient  story  learn  to  scorn  them  all 
There,  in  the  rich,  the  honour  d}  famd,  and  great? 
See  the  false  scale  of  happiness  complete  ! 
Mark  by  what  wretched  steps  their  giory  grows, 
From  dirt  and  sea-weed,  as  proud  Venice  rose,  <§r. 


Having  thus  at  length  shewn,  that  happiness  consist* 
neither  in  any  external  goods,  nor  in  all  kinds  of  internal^ 
that  is,  such  of  them  as  are  not  of  our  own  acquirement, 

he 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.        131 

he  concludes  [from  1.  298  to  301]  that  it  is  to  be  found  in 
VIRTUE  ALONE: 

Know  then  this  truth  (enough  for  Man  to  know) 

Virtue  alone  is  happiness  below. 

Which  the  Translator  turns  thus  : 

Appren  done  qu'il  n'est  point  icy  bas  de  bonheur 
Si  la  vertu  ne  regie  et  F  esprit,  et  le  cceur. 

i.  e.  Learn  therefore  that  there  is  no  happiness  here 
below,  if  virtue  does  not  regulate  the  heart  and  the 
understanding,  which  destroys  the  whole  force  of  the 
Poet's  conclusion.  He  had  proved,  that  happiness  con 
sists  neither  in  external  goods,  as  the  vulgar  imagined, 
nor  yet  in  the  visionary  pursuits  of  the  philosophers :  he 
therefore  concludes  that  it  consists  in  VIRTUE  ALONE. 
His  Translator  says,  without  virtue  there  can  be  no 
happiness.  And  so  say  the  men  against  whom  the  Poet 
is  here  arguing.  For  though  they  supposed  external 
goods  requisite  to  happiness,  yet  it  was,  when  enjoyed 
according  to  the  rules  of  virtue.  Mr.  Pope  says, 

Virtue  ALONE  is  happiness  below, 
and  so  ought  his  Translator  to  have  said  after  him. 

Hitherto  the  Poet  had  proved,  NEGATIVELY,  that 
happiness  consists  in  virtue,  by  shewing  it  consisted  not 
in  any  other  thing.  He  now  [from  1.  300  to  317]  proves 
the  same  POSITIVELY,  by  an  enumeration  of  its  qualities, 
all  naturally  adapted  to  give,  and  to  increase  human 
happiness :  as  its  constancy,  capacity,  vigour,  efficacy, 
activity,  moderation,  and  self-sufficiency  : 

The  only  point  where  human  bliss  stands  still, 
And  tastes  the  good,  without  the  fall  to  ill ; 
Without  satiety,  though  e'er  so  bless'd, 
And  but  more  relish  a,  as  the  more  distressed : 
Good,  from  each  object,  from  each  place  acquir'd, 
For  ever  exercis'd,  yet  never  tir'd ; 
Never  elated,  while  one  man's  oppressed ; 
Never  dejected,  while  another's  bless'd  ; 
And  where  no  wants,  no  wishes  can  remain, 
Since;  but  to  wish  more  virtue,  is  to  gain. 

&  3  Having 


i32  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

Having  thus  proved  that  happuiess  is  indeed  placed  in 
virtue,  he  proves  next  [from  1.  316  to  319]  that  it  is 
RIGHTLY  placed  there :  For,  that  then,  and  then  only, 
ALL  may  partake  of  it,  and  ALL  be  capable  of  relish 
ing  it: 

See  the  sole  bliss  Heaven  could  on  ALL  bestow, 
Which  who  but  feels  can  taste,  but  thinks  can  know. 

The  Poet  then  observes,  with  some  indignation,  [from 
1.  318  to  331]  that  as  easy  and  as  evident  as  this  truth 
was,  yet  riches  and  false  philosophy  had  so  blinded  the 
perception,  even  of  improved  minds,  that  the  possessors 
of  the  first  placed  happiness  in  externals  unsuitable  to 
Man's  nature ;  and  the  followers  of  the  latter  in  refined 
visions,  unsuitable  to  his  situation:  while  the  simple- 
minded  man,  with  NATURE  only  for  his  guide,  found 
plainly  in  what  it  should  be  placed : 

Yet  poor  with  fortum,  and  with  learning  Mind, 
The  bad  must  miss,  the  good  untaught  will  find ; 
Slave  to  no  sect,  who  takes  no  private  road, 
Bat  looks  thro  Nature  np  to  Natures  God. 
Pursues  that  chain,  which  links  th'  immense  design. 
Joins  heaven  and  earth,  and  mortal  and  divine. 
Sees  that  no  Being  any  bliss  can.  know, 
But  touches  some  above,  and  some  below ; 
Learns,  from  this  union  of  the  rising  tc/iv/i\ 
The  first  last  purpose  of  the  human  soul ; 
And  knows  where  faith,  law,  morals,  all  began, 
All  end,  in  LOVE  OF  GOD,  and  LOVE  OF  MAX. 

To  this  Mr,  DC  Crousaz, — "  I  made  my  remarks  as 
*l  I  went  along,  hi  reading  the  Poem  of  Mr.  Du  Remcl', 
"  and,  m  proportion  as  I  advanced  in  it.  I  have  had  the 
"  most  agreeable  satisfaction  to  find,  that  my  Commen- 
"  taries  have  teen  too  hasty  and  immature  on  this 
"  Poem;  in  so  clear  a  light  has  the  illustrious  Abbe 
"  placed  those  truths,  which  the  prose  Translator  had 
"  delivered  with  much  less  precbeness.  In  this  trans- 
"  laiioii  I  evidently  meet  with  the  sacred  terms  Q$  faith > 
"  hope,  and  charity;  but  I  don't  know  where  he  had 
2  "  them. 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN,        133 

"  them.  And  it  is  not  easy  for  me  to  find,  how  the  ideas 
"  which  I  have  been  accustomed  to  fix  to  them  can  agree 
"  with  them.  J  am  puzzled  to  know  what  they  have  to 
"  do  here  *." 

This,  to  use  our  Critic's  own  words,  is  a  specimen 
of  that  Galimatias,  which  runs  through  his  whole  Com 
mentary.  He  suspects,  he  approves,  he  doubts,  he 
applauds ;  but  it  all  ends  in  calumny  and  condemnation. 
Here  you  have  an  old  veteran  Controversialist  of  seventy- 
five,  who  gives  the  world  his  second  thoughts  (for  he  had 
published  his  Examen  before  he  wrote  his  Commentary) 
telling  us  that  he  scribbled  at  random,  and  made  the 
greatest  part  of  his  remarks  before  he  had  read  over  the 
book  he  wrote  against :  a  book  that  contains  a  regular, 
well-digested  system,  whose  parts,  having  a  mutual  de- 
pendance,  necessarily  support  and  illustrate  one  another. 
But  if  a  man  would  make  so  free  with  himself  as  to  tell 
this  strange  story  to  the  world,  which  certainly  he  had 
a  right  to  do,  he  should,  as  his  moral  character  was 
concerned,  have  made  satisfaction  for  his  folly,  by 
striking  out  all  those  odious  imputations  with  which  the 
foregoing  part  of  his  Commentary  abounds.  Instead  of 
this,  he  was  not  only  content  to  leave  the  calumnies  of 
fatalism  and  Spinoztsm  unretracted ;  but  has  thought 
fit  to  renew  them,  even  after  this  confession  of  his  hasty, 
immature  way  of  writing.  Ah !  misera  mens  hominis, 
quo  tefatttm  saepissime  trahit!  What  but  this  could 
have  forced  him  to  write  a  whole  book  in  contradiction  to 
the  very  principle  he  himself  lays  down  to  proceed  by  f 
An  over-scrupulous  exactitude  (says  he)  w&yld  fatrt  the 
very  end  of  poetry*  But  we  m&st  make  it  &  tm?  to 
interpret  one  expression  %/  another,,  for  fear  of  attri-* 
fritting  notions  to  a  Poet  that  would  be  injurious  to  tewf. 

But  to  return  :  This  is  riot  all ;  the  Poet  shews  farther 
[from  1.  330  to  343]  that,  when  the  simple-minded  naani 
on  his  first  setting  out  in  the  pursuit  of  truth,  in  order  t£ 
happiness,  has  had  the  wisddm 

To  look  thro'  Nature  up  to  Natures  Getd% 
instead  of  adhering  to  any  sect  or  party,  where  there  was 

*  Commentaire,  p.  33^,  f  Hid.  p.  i§6» 


V    * 


134  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

so  great  odds  of  his  chusing  wrong ;  that  then  the  benefit 
of  gaining  the  knowledge  of  God's  will  written  in  the 
mind  is  not  there  confined;  for  that  standing  on  this 
sure  foundation,  he  is  now  no  longer  in  danger  of  chusing 
wrong,  amidst  such  diversities  of  religions ;  but  by  pur 
suing  this  grand  scheme  of  universal  benevolence,  in 
practice,  as  well  as  theory,  he  arrives  at  length  to  the 
/enow/edge  of  the  revealed  will  of  God,  which  is  the 
consummation  of  the  system  of  benevolence : 

For  him  alone  hope  leads  from  goal  to  goal, 
And  opens  still,  and  opens  on  his  soul, 
Till  lengthen'd  on  to  FAITH,  and  unconfin'd, 
It  pours  the  bliss,  that  fills  up  all  the  mind. 

But  let  us  once  more  hear  Mr.  De  Crousaz:  "  We 
<c  are  brought  (says  he)  at  length  to  the  truths qfRevela- 
"  tion. — See  Man  once  again  re-established  in  his  rights, 
"  raised  as  far  above  brutes  as  Heaven  is  above  the  earth. 
"  How  infinite  a  difference  between  what  one  reads  in 
"  this  fourth  Epistle,  and  what  the  Poet  ventured  to 
<c  propose  in  the  Jirst,  and  in  part  of  the  two  following  ! 
"  There,  corrupt  minds  thought  they  read  their  own 
"  sentiments ;  and  even  this,  which  we  find  here,  is  in- 
"  sufficient  to  bring  them  back  again  from  their  pre- 
"  ventions  *." 

That  the  three  Jirst  Epistles  have  nothing  contrary  to 
the  fourth,  we  have  not  only  sufficiently  evinced,  but 
shewn  likewise,  that  die  doctrine  of  this  last,  so  much 
approved  by  Mr.  De  Crousaz,  is  the  necessary  conse 
quence  of  that  laid  down  in  every  one  of  the  preceding, 
so  much  condemned  by  him.  But,  that  corrupt  minds 
thought  they  read  their  own  sentiments  there,  nay,  that 
it  will  be  hard  to  bring  them  back  again  from  their  pre 
ventions,  I  can  easily  conceive ;  because,  not  only  par 
tiality  to  men's  own  opinions,  but  pi  ejudice  against  the 
opinions  of  others,  may  make  them  fancy  they  see  doc 
trines  in  a  celebrated  writer,  which  are  indeed  not  there. 
And  then,  self-love  on  the  one  hand,  and  self-conceit  on 

•  Commentaire,  p.  332,  333. 

the 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.         135 

the  other,  may  easily  keep  both  in  their  several  delusions, 
against  all  the  power  of  conviction. 

To  proceed :  the  Poet,  in  the  last  place,  marks  out 
[from  1.  342  to  363]  the  progress  of  his  good  mans 
benevolence,  pushed  through  natural  religion  to  reve&kd, 
till  it  arrives  to  that  height,  which  the  sacred  writers 
describe  as  the  very  summit  of  Christian  perfection  :  and 
shews  how  the  progress  of  kmnan  differs  irotn  the  pro 
gress  of  divine  benevolence.  That  the  dhene  deseeiads 
from  whole  to  parts;  but  that  the  kvmcw  mast  rise 
from  individual  to  universal,  And  with  this-  rapturous 
description  the  subject  of  the  Epistle  closes : 

Self-love  thus  push'd  to  social,  to  divine, 

Gives  thee  to  make  thy  neighbour's  blessing  thine : 

Is  this  too  litfle  for  the  boundless  heart? 

Extend  k,  let  thy  enemies  have  part. 

Grasp  the  whole  worlds  of  reason,  life,  and  sease, 

In  one  close  system  of  benevolence. 

Happier,  as  kinder  \  in  whatever  degree, 

AND  HEIGHT  OF  BUSS,  BUT  HEIGHT  OF  CHAB1TY. 

God  loves  from  whole  to  parts ;  but  human  soul 
Must  rise  from  individual  to  the  whole. 
Self-l&ve  but  serves  the  virtuous  mind  to  wake, 
As  the  small  pebble  stirs  the  peaceful  lake ; 
The  centre  mov'd,  a  circle  straight  succeeds, 
Another  still,  and  still  another  spreads,  fyc* 

The  last  part  of  the  observation  is  important.  Roche- 
)  E$prit%  and  their  wordy  disciple  MawteviHe*  h&d 
observed,  that  setf-lovc  was  the  origin  of  all  those  virtues 
mankind  most  admire;  and  therefore  foolishly  supposed 
it  was  the  end  likewise :  and  so,,  taught  that  the  highest 
pretences  to  disinterestedness  were  only  the  more  artful 
disguises  of  setf-tove*  But  Mr»  Pofe>  who  says>  souses 
where  or  other, 

Of  human  nature  wit  its  worst  i»ay  write> 
We  all  revere  it  in  our  own  despite^ 

saw,  as  well  as  they,  and  every  body  else,  that  the  passion 
began  in  $elj-lwe;   yet  he  understood  humsua  mature 

x  4  better 


136  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

better  than  to  imagine  they  terminated  there.  He  knew 
that  reason  and  religion  could  convert  selfishness  into  its 
very  opposite ;  and  therefore  teaches  that 

Self-love  but  serves  the  virtuous  mind  to  wake, 

and  thus  hath  vindicated  the  dignity  of  human  nature, 
and  the  philosophic  truth  of  the  Christian  doctrine. 

But  let  us  turn  once  more  to  Mr.  De  Crousaz,  who, 
constant  to  himself,  concludes,  ia  the  same  even  tenor  in 
which  he  first  set  out.  "  A  Man  (says  he)  must  use 
"  some  efforts  to  go  even  so  far  as  to  love  his  enemies.— 
"  But  as  to  what  concerns  all  parts  of  the  universe,  and 
"  all  the  living  beings  that  inhabit  it,  as  well  those  we 
"  see  not,  as  those  we  do  see,  wre  find  nothing  in  our- 
"  selves  repugnant  indeed  to  the  giving  them  our  love; 
"  but  then,  on  the  other  hand,  we  do  not  feel  any  motions 
"  towards  the  rendering  it  to  them.  And  while  so  great 
"  a  number  of  objects,  with  which  we  are  closely  sur- 
"  rounded,  demand  our  attention  and  concern,  it  appears 
"  not  only  superfluous  but  even  irrational,  to  tease  our- 
"  selves  with  I  cannot  tell  wrhat  kind  of  tenderness,  for 
"  the  inhabitants  of  Jupiter*  "  fyc. 

This  presents  him  with  a  pleasant  idea,  and  he  pursues 
it  with  his  usual  grace  and  vivacity. 

After  this  one  would  scarce  think  that  in  the  very  next 
words  he  should  confute  himself,  answer  his  own  objec 
tions,  and  vindicate  the  very  charity  he  had  ridiculed. 
And  yet  this  he  now  does,  as  much  without  fear,  as  the 
other  was  without  wit.  "  I  own  (says  he)  that  a  soul 
"  devoted  to  its  Creator,  and  struck  and  raised  with 
"  admiration  at  the  attentive  view  of  his  mere  corporeal 
"  creation,  would  be  ready  to  lend  those  Beings  his  voice 
"  and  sentiments,  in  order  to  join  with  them  in  an  offering 
"  of  praise  and  thanksgiving  to  their  common  Creator, 
*e  whose  glory  they  so  magnificently  declare,  though  with- 
"  out  any  knowledge  of  the  truth  which  they  proclaim. 
"  Nay,  I  go  farther,  and  say,  that  a  soul  so  sanctified, 
"  and  at  the  same  time  well  assured,  that  there  are 
"  innumerable  choirs  of  happy  intelligences,  who  con- 

*  Commentaire,  p.  336. 

"  tinually 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.        137 

"  tinually  adore  their  Creator  in  ecstatic  raptures,  far 
"  surpassing  our  conceptions,  will  congratulate  with 
"  them  on  their  glory  *  and  felicity."  Here  we  see 
described,  and,  to  say  the  truth,  not  ill,  that  very  state 
of  mind  which  produced  the  raptures  of  our  admirable 
Poet  : 

Grasp  the  whole  worlds  of  reason,  life,  and  sense, 
In  one  close  system  of  benevolence. 
Happier,  as  kinder !  in  whatever  degree, 
And  height  of  bliss  but  height  of  charity. 

No,  says  our  Critic,  who  would  still  keep  on  foot  the 
censure  he  himself  has  overthrown ;  the  elevations  I 
speak  of,  are  not  elevations  of  chanty  for  those  glorious 
intelligences.  We  are  the  objects  of  their  charity,  not 
they  of  ours"\.  Egregious  philosopher!  By  charity, 
Mr.  Pope  not  only  means  benevolence,  but  expressly  calls 
it  so.  And  benevolence  surely  may  be  as  well  exercised 
towards  superiors,  as  by  them. 

But  he  proceeds — "  This  pretended  chimerical  affec- 
"  tion  can  have  no  foundation  but  in  the  chimerical 
"  system  of  a  whole,  of  which  we  make  a  part,  and  of 
"  which  all  the  parts  without  exception  are  so  dependent 
"  on  each  other,  that,  if  any  one  only  be  displaced,  or 
"  never  so  little  deviating  from  its  proper  function,  that 
"  disorder  will  affect  the  rest,  and  spread  itself  over  the 
"  whole :  and,  by  consequence,  extend  to  us,  who  make 
"  an  essential  part  of  that  w?hole.  Self-love  therefore, 
"  interests  itself  in  every  thing  that  exists  and  moves." 
Self-love  was  never  sent  on  such  an  errand,  no  not  by 
Rochefocault  or  Esprit,  though  they  forced  it  to  do  all 
their  drudgery.  Here,  a  man  who  never  yet  once  rightly 
understood  what  his  adversary  did  say,  w  ill  now  pretend 
to  guess  at  his  reasons  for  saying.  One  might  have  fore 
seen  with  what  success.  But  something  he  has  taught 
us,  and  that  is,  to  rest  content  with  the  Poet's  own  rea 
soning.  His  argument  then  for  this  extended  benevolence 
is,  that  as  God  has  made  a  whole,  whose  parts  have  a 
perfect  relation  to,  and  an  entire  dependency  on  each 

*  Commentaire,  p.  337,  338.  t  Ibid.  p.  338. 

other, 


538  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

other,  Man,  irt  extending  bis  benevolence  throughout  that 
whole?  acts  in  conformity  to  tlie  will  of  his  Creator ;  and 
therefore,  this  enlargement  of  his  affection  hecosnes  a 
duty. 

But  the  Poet  hath  not  only  shewn  his  piety  ir*  this 
freccpt,  but  the  utmost  art  and  address  likewise  in  the 
disposition  of  it.  rl  he  Essay  on  Man  opens  with  exposing 
Idle  ynurmuriflgs,  and  impious  conclusions  of  foolish  mem 
against  the  present  constitution  of  things:  As  it  pro 
ceeds,  it  occasionally  detects  all  those  false  principles  and 
©pinions  that  ted  them  to  conclude  thus  perversely. 
Having  now  done  all  that  was  necessary  in  speculation^ 
the  Poet  turns  to  practice ;  and  ends  his  Essay  with  the 
recommendation  of  an  acknowledged  virtue,  charity^ 
which,  if  exercised  in  the  extent  that  conformity  to  the 
will  of  God  requires,  would  effectually  prevent  all  com 
plaints-  against  the  present  order  of  things:  such  cona- 
plaints  being  made  with  a  total  disregard  to  every  thing, 
l>*it  their  own  private  system ;  and  seeking  remedy  in 
the  disorder,  and  at  the  expence  of  all  the  rest 

The  art  and  contrivance,  we  see,  is  truly  admirable, 
But  Mr.  De  Crousaz  pursues  his  own  ideas.  For  to> 
ftnow  Mr.  Pope's,  seems  to  have  been  his  least  concern 
throughout  his  whole  Commentary.  "  This  system 
**  [namely,  of  a  whole}  will  carry  us  to  a  great  length* 
"  Miracles^  which  deviate  from  the  ordinary  course  of 
**  nature,  must  pass  from  henceforward  as  idle  fable." 
[Observe  his  reason]  "  It  was  impossible  that  any  kind 
"  of  thing  which  has  happened,  should  not  have  hap- 
*'  pened,  or  not  have  happened  in  the  manner  it  hath  *." 
As  to  Mr.  Pope's  fatalism,  we  have  said  enough  of  that 
matter  already.  But  now,  if,  for  disputation's  sake,  we 
admit  what,  for  truth's  sake,  we  must  reject,  according 
to  my  notions  of  logic,  this  conclusion  would  follow,  that 
therefore  miracles  could  not  but  have  been;  not  Mr. 
Crousazs,  that  therefore  they  never  could  be*  Miracles 
are  proved,  like  other  matters  of  fact,  by  human  testi* 
nwny:  if  that  says,  iron  at  one  time  swam,  at  other 
times  sunk,  and  we  suppose  things  ordered  fatally ;  these 
two  events  were  equally  necessary :  so  that,  to  make  out 
*  Commcntaire,  p.  339. 

his 


MR.  POPE'S  £SSAY  ON  MAN.        139 

his  conclusion,    he  must  be  forced  to  add  downright 
atheism  to  his  fate. 

Mr.  De  Crousaz  has  HOW  pushed  matters  to  a  decent 
length.  He  has  said,  the  Poet's  extent  of  charity  was 
irrational  —  the  system  on  which  it  was  founded  chime 
rical  —  that  it  ended  in  fate  —  and  overthrew  all  miracles. 
One  would  imagine  this  should  have  satisfied  the  most 
orthodox  resentment.  But  there  wanted  something  to 
make  a  right  polemical  climax.  To  crown  the  whole, 
therefore,  he  tells  us,  that,  "  According  to  the  Poet,  the 
"  universe  would  not  have  been  a  work  sufficiently  worthy 
"  of  God,  had  there  not  been  atheists,  superstitious, 
"  persecutors,  tyrants,  idolaters,  assassins,  and  poi- 
"soners*."  What  I  can  find  in  the  Essay  coming 
nearest  to  this,  is,  That  those  mischiefs  do  not  deform 
God's  creation;  because  the  divine  art  is  incessantly 
producing  good  out  of  evil  :  and  that  as  this  universe  is 
the  best  of  all  those  in  God's  idea,  therefore,  whatever 
is,  is  right,  with  respect  to  that  universe  :  either  as  tend 
ing,  in  its  own  nature.,  to  the  perfection  of  it,  or  made  so 
to  tend  by  infinite  Wisdom,  contrary  to  its  nature.  The 
true  consequence  drawn  from  all  this,  is,  That  an  uni 
verse  with  atheists,  superstitious,  &c.  is  sufficiently 
worthy  of  God.  How  that  can  infer  this  other,  That 
the  universe  would  not  have  been  a  work  sufficiently 
worthy  oj  God,  had  there  not  been  atheists,  superstitious, 
&c.  I  leave  Mr.  De  Crousaz  to  draw  out  by  his  own 
logic,  or,  which  seems  the  more  ductile  of  the  two,  his 
own  conscience. 

The  Poet's  address  to  his  friend,  which  follows,  and 
closes  this  Epistle,  comes  not  within  the  design  of  these 
observations  ;  which  are  only  to  explain  the  philosophy 
and  reasoning  of  the  Essay  on  Man.  Otherwise,  this 
single  apostrophe  would  furnish  a  critic  with  examples  of 
every  one  of  those  Jvce  species  of  elocution,  from  which, 
as  from  its  sources,  Longinus  deduceth  the  SUBLIME  j~. 

*  Commentaire,  p.  340. 

\  —  taiv\t  wyati  TJVE?  tiffw  T'  trfafopimf,  1.  Tlgarav  pit/ 
Taj  vojja'tt?  <x0jpE9r)j£oXoy.  *2.  AtvTf^ov  ot  to  &(poopov  t£ 
$.  Ilota  TVV  vxpiuiruv  tshatru;.  4.  *H  yiviotToe,  fomfftf.  5. 

ama,  ^  o-yyxTieftfcra  ra  «r£o  SOWTW  awavla,  ^  Iv  ci%nup.aAt  xj 


i.  The 


140  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

1.  The  first  and  chief  is  a  grandeur  and  sublimity  &f 
concept  ioir: 

Come  then,  ray  friend  !  my  genius !  come  along, 
O  master  of  the  Poet,  and  the  song ! 
And  while  the  Muse  now  stoops,  and  now  ascends,, 
To  Man's  low  passions,  or  their  glorious  ends — 

2.  The  second,  that  pathetic  enthusiasm,  which  at  the 
same  time  mdts  and  enjlames  : 

Teach  me,  like  thee,  in  various  nature  wise, 
To  fall  with  dignity,  with  temper  rise ; 
FornVd  by  thy  converse,  happily  to  steer 
From  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe ; 
Correct  with  spirit,  eloquent  with  ease, 
Intent  to  reason,  or  polite  to  please. 

5.  A   certain    elegant  formation  and  ordonance  of 

figures  : 

O  f  while  along  the  stream  of  time,  thy  name 
Expanded  flies,  and  gathers  all  its  fame, 
•    Say,  shall  my  little  bark  attendant  sail. 
Pursue  the  triumph,  and  partake  the  gale  ? 

4.  A  splendid  diction : 

When  statesmen,  heroes,  kings,  in  dust  repose, 
Whose  sons  shall  blush  their  fathers  were  thy  foes,. 
Shall  then  this  verse  to  future  age  pretend 
Thou  wert  my  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend  ? 
That,  urg'd  by  thee,  I  turn'd  the  tuneful  art 
From  sounds  to  things,  from  fancy  to  the  heart ; 
For  wit's  falsje  mirror  held  up  Nature's  light — • 

And  fifthly,  which  includes  in  itself  all  the  rest,  a 
weight  and  dignity  in  the  composition  : 

Shew'd  erring  Pride,  whatever  &,  is  RIGHT; 
That  REASON,  PASSION,  answer  one  great  AIM; 
That  true  SELF-LOVE  and  SOCIAL  are  the  SAME; 
That  VITRUE  only  makes  our  BLISS  below; 
And  all  our  knowledge  is,  OURSELVES  TO  KNOW. 

But  this,  as  we  say,  is  not  our  province  at  present.  I 
shall  therefore  content  myself  with  an  observation,  which 
this  sublime  recapitulation  of  the  general  argument,  in 

the 


MR.  PQPFS  ESSAY  ON  MAN.        141 

the  last  lines,  affords  me  to  conclude  with.  Which  is,  of 
one  great  beauty  that  shines  through  the  whole  Essay. 
It  is  this,  that  the  Poet,  whether  he  speaks  of  Man  as  am 
individual,  a  member  of  society*  or  the  subject  of  happi 
ness,  never  misseth  an  opportunity,  while  he  is  explaining 
his  state  under  any  of  these  capacities,  to  illustrate  it,  in 
the  most  artful  manner,  by  the  inforcement  of  his  grand 
principle,  That  every  thing  tends  to  the  good  of  tkt 
whole.  From  whence  his  system  receives  the  reciprocal 
advantage  of  having  that  grand  theorem  realized  by  fact^ 
and  hisjacts  justified  on  &  principle  of  right  or  nature. 

Thus  have  I  endeavoured  to  analyse  and  explain  the 
noble  reasoning  of  these  four  Epistles.  Enough,  I  pre 
sume,  to  convince  our  Critic's  friends  that  it  hath  ,a 
precision,  force,  and  closeness  of  connexion,  rarely  to  be 
•met  with,  even  in  the  most  formal  treatises  of  philosophy- 
Yet  in  doing  this,  it  is  but  too  evident  I  have  destroyed 
that  grace  and  energy  which  animates  the  original  Sa 
right  was  Mr.  Pope's  prediction  of  the  event  of  such  am 
undertaking,  where  lie  says,  in  his  preface,  that,  he  &m 
unable  to  treat  this  part  of  his  subject  more  in  detail, 
without  becoming  dryt  and  tedious.  And  now  let  the 
Reader  believe,  if  he  be  so  disposed,  what  our  great 
Logician  insinuates  to  be  his  own  sentiments,  as  well  as 
those  of  iiis  friends  :  "  That  certain  persons  have  con 
jectured  that  Mr.  Pope  did  not  compose  this  Essay  at 
"  once,  and  in  a  regular  order ;  but  that  after  he  'had 
"  wrote  several  fragments  of  Poetry,  all  finished  in  their 
"  kind;  one,  for  example,  on  the  Parallel  between  Reason- 
"  and  Instinct  i  another,  upon  Man's  groundless  Pride; 
"  another,  on  the  Prerogatives  of  HumanNature;  another, 
"  on  Religion  and  Superstition',  another,  on  the  Original 
"  of  Society;  and  several  fragments  besides,  on  Selj-lovt 
"  and  the  Passions;  he  tacked  these  together  as  he  could, 
"  and  divided  them  into  four  Epistles,  as,  it  is  said,  was 
^  the  fortune  of  Homers  Rhapsodies*"  Yes,  I  believe 
full  as  much  of  Mr.  Popes  Rhapsodies,  as  I  do  of  Homers 
But  if  this  be  the  case,  that  the  leaves  of  these  two  great 
Poets  were  wrote  at  random,  tossed  about,  and  after 
wards  put  in  order,  like  the  Cum&an  Sibyls ;  then,  what 
*  Commentaire,  p.  34^. 

we 


J42  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

we  have  till  now  thought  an  old  lying  bravado  of 
the  Poets,  that  they  wrote  by  inspiration,  will  become  a 
sober  truth.  For,  if  chance  could  not  produce  them, 
and  human  design  had  no  hand  in  them,  what  must  we 
conclude,  but  that  they  are,  what  they  are  so  commonly 
called,  divine? 

However,  so  honourable  an  account  of  rhapsody  writ 
ing  should  by  all  means  be  encouraged,  as  matter  of 
consolation  to  certain  modern  writers  in  divinity  and 
politics.  But  the  mischief  is,  our  Logician  has  given  us 
an  unlucky  proof  in  his  own  case,  that  all  Rhapsodists  are 
not  so  happy. 

To  be  serious :  As  to  Homer,  one  Anight  hope,  by 
this  time,  those  old  exploded  fooleries  about  his  rhapso 
dies  would  be  forgotten.  But  as  to  his  Translator,  it 
must  be  owned,  he  has  given  cause  enough  of  disgust  to 
our  philosophers  and  men  of  reason.  Till  this  time, 
every  Poet,  good  or  bad,  stuck  fairly  to  his  profession  : 
But  Mr.  Pope,  now  the  last  of  the  poetic  line  amongst 
us,  on  whom  the  large  patrimony  of  his  whole  race  is 
devolved,  seems  desirous,  as  is  natural  in  such  cases,  to 
ally  himself  to  a  more  lasting  family ;  and  so,  after  hav 
ing  disported  himself  at  will,  in  the  flowery  paths  of 
fancy,  and  revelled  in  all  the  favours  of  the  Muses,  boasts 
of  having  taken  up  in  time,  and  courted  and  espoused 
truth  : 

That  not  in  fancy's  maze  he  wander'd  long, 

But  stoop 'd  to  truth,  and  moraliz'd  his  song. 

But  now,  in  what  light,  must  ve  think,  will  the  graver 
Christian  reader  regard  the  calumnies  we  have  here  con 
futed  ?  How  sad  an  idea  will  this  give  him  of  the  present 
spirit  of  Christian  profession,  that  a  work,  wrote  .solely  to 
recommend  the  charity  that  religion  so  strongly  inforceth, 
and  breathing  nothing  but  love  to  God,  and  universal 
good- will  to  Man,  should  bring  upon  the  Author  such  a 
storm  of  uncharitable  bitterness  and  calumny,  and  that, 
from  a  pretended  Advocate  of  Christianity  ?  A  religion 
the  very  vitality  of  which  (if  we  may  believe  its  propa 
gators)  is  universal  benevolence  :  For  the  end  of  the  com 
mandment  is  charity  *.  Conformably  hereunto  we  may 

*  i  Tim.  i.  5, 

observe, 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.         143 

observe,  that  in  their  Epistles  to  the  Churches,  whatever 
the  occasion  was,  whatever  discipline  they  instituted, 
whatever  points  of  faith  they  explained,  whatever  heresies 
they  stigmatized^  whatever  immoralities  they  condemned, 
or  whatever  virtues  they  recommended,  CHARITY  was 
still  the  thing  most  constantly  enforced,  as  the  very  end 
of  all,  the  bond  of  perfectness  *.  The  beloved  disciple  of 
our  Lord,  particularly,  who  may  surely  be  supposed  to 
know  iiis  Master's  will,  hath  wrote  his  Epistle  on  set 
purpose  to  recommend  this  single  virtue ;  at  a  crisis  too, 
when,  as  heresies  were  springing  up  apace,  a  modern 
controversialist  would  be  apt  to  think  he  might  have 
employed  his  time  better.  And  why  (it  may  be  reason 
ably  asked)  so  very  much  on  charity,  in  an  age  when 
Christians  had  so  few  provocations  or  temptations  to  vio 
late  it  ?  For  their  faith  being  yet  chaste  from  the  prostitu 
tions  of  the  schools,  and  their  hierarchy  yet  uncorrupted 
by  the  gifts  of  Const  ant'mt,  the  Church  knew  neither 
bigotry  \wrambition,  the  two  fatal  sources  of  uncharitable 
zeal.  I  will  tell  you,  it  was  the  providence  of  their  pro 
phetic  spirit,  wliich  presented  to  them  the  image  of  those 
miserable  tiaaes  foretold  by  their  Master,  when  iniquity 
should  abound,  and  the  love  of  many  wax  cold  f.  So  that 
if  the  men  of  those  times  should  persist  in  violating  this 
bond  of  perfectness,  after  so  many  repeated  admonitions, 
they  might  be  found  altogether  withour  excuse.  For  I 
can  by  no  means  enter  into  the  views  of  that  profound 
philosopher,  who  discovered  that  Jesus  and  his  followers 
might  preach  up  love  and  charity,  the  better  to  enable  a 
set  of  men,  some  centuries  afterwards,  to  tyrannise  over 
those  whom  the  engaging  sounds  of  charity  and  brotherly 
love  had  intrapped  into  subjection  J. 

I  am  aware  that  certain  modem  propagators  of  tlie 
feith,  aided  with  a  school  distinction,  will  tell  you,  that 
it  is  pure  charity  which  sets  them  all  at  work ;  and  that 
what  you  call  uncharitableness,  when  they  insult  the 
feme,  the  fortune,  or  the  person  of  their  brother,  is  in 
deed  the  very  height  of  charity,  a  charity  for  his  souL 
This  indeed  may  be  the  height  of  the  hangman's  charity, 

*  Col.  iii.  14.  f  Matt,  xxiv.  12. 

I  Characteristics,  vol.  i.  p.  87.  vol.  iii.  p.  115.  Ed.  1737, 

who 


144  A  COMMENTARY  ON 

who  waits  for  your  clothes  :  But  it  could  never  be 
St.  Paul's.  His  was  not  easily  provoked,  thought  no 
evil,  bore  all  things,  hoped  all  things,  endured  all  things*. 
It  was  a  charity  that  began  in  candour,  inspired  good 
opinion,  and  sought  the  temporal  happiness  of  his  brother. 

I  leave  it  with  Mr.  De  Crousaz  to  think  upon  the  dif 
ferent  effects  which  excess  of  zeal  in  the  service  of  re 
ligion  hath  produced  in  him.  For  I  will,  in  very 
charity,  believe  it  to  be  really  that ;  notwithstanding  we 
every  day  see  the  most  despicable  tools  of  others  impo- 
tency,  and  the  vilest  slaves  to  their  own  ambition,  hide 
their  corrupt  passions  under  the  self-same  cover.  This 
learned  gentleman  should  reflect  on  what  the  sober 
part  of  the  world  will  think  of  his  conduct.  For 
though  the  Apostle  bids  AGED  MEN  BE  SOUND  IN 
FAITH,  he  adds  immediately,  and  IN  CHARITY,  IN 
PATIENCE  J"  likewise.  But  where  was  his  charity  in 
labouring,  on  the  slightest  grounds,  to  represent  his 
brother  as  propagating Spinozism  and  immorality?  Where 
was  his  temper,  when  he  became  so  furious  against  him, 
on  the  supposition  of  his  espousing  a  system  he  had  never 
read,  that  of  Leibnitz;  and  justifying  a  doctrine  he  had 
never  heard  of ,  the  pre-established  hatwony?  Where  was 
his  patience,  when,  having  conceived  this  of  him,  on  the 
mere  authority  of  a  most  mistaken  Translator,  he  would 
not  stay  to  inquire  whether  the  Author  owned  the  faith 
fulness  of  the  version ;  but  published  his  conceptions, 
and  the  strongest  accusations  upon  those  conceptions,  in 
volume  after  volume,  to  the  whole  world  ?  W^here,  if  in 
any  of  these  imaginations  so  founded,  he  should  be 
mistaken,  he  became  guilty  of  a  deliberate  and  repeated 
act  of  the  highest  injustice  ;  the  attempting  to  deprive  a 
virtuous  man  of  his  honest  reputation. 

If  Mr.  De  Crousaz  presumes  his  zeal  for  the  honour 
of  God  will  excuse  his  violations  of  charity  towards  men, 
I  must  tell  him,  he  knows  not  what  spirit  he  is  of.  If  a 
man  (says  the  beloved  disciple  of  our  Lord)  say,  I  love 
God,  and  hateth  his  brother,  he  is  a  liar :  For  he  that 
faveth  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love 

*   I  Cor.  xiii.  5.  7,        t  Titus  ii,  2. 

God 


MR.  POPE'S  ESSAY  ON  MAN.        145 

God  whom,  he  hath  not  seen*?  A  free-thinker  may  per 
haps  laugh  at  the  simplicity  of  this  argument,  which  yet 
he  would  affect  to  admire,  could  any  one  find  it  for  him 
in  Plato.  But  let  him  tor  once  condescend  to  be  in 
structed  by  his  Bible,  and  hearken  to  a  little  Christian 
reasoning. 

"  you  say  you  love  God  (says  the  Apostle)  though 
"  you  hate  your  brother :  Impossible  !  The  love  of  any 
"object  begins  originally,  like  all  the  other  passions, 
"  from  self-love.  Thus  we  love  ourselves,  by  representa- 
"  tion,  in  our  offspring ;  which  love  extends  by  degrees 
"  to  our  remoter  relations,  and  so  on  through  our  nei^h- 
"  bourhood,  to  all  the  fellow-members  of  our  community. 
"  And  now  self-love,  refined  by  reason  and  religion,  be- 
"  gins  to  lose  its  nature,  and  deservedly  assumes  another 
"  name.  Our  country  next  claims  our  love  ;  we  then 
"  extend  it  to  all  mankind,  and  never  rest  till  we  have, 
"  at  length,  fixed  it  on  that  most  amiable  of  all  objects, 
"  the  great  Author  and  Original  of  Being.  This  is  the 
"  course  and  progress  of  human  love : 

God  loves  from  whole  to  parts,  but  human  soul 
Must  rise  from  individual  to  the  whole. 

"  Now  (pursues  the  Apostle)  I  reason  thus :  Can 
"  you,  who  are  not  yet  arrived  at  that  inferior  stage  of 
"  benevolence,  the  love  of  your  brother,  whom  you  have 
"  seen,  that  is,  whom  the  necessities  of  civil  life,  and  a 
"  sense  of  your  mutual  relation  might  teach  you  to  love, 
"  pretend  to  have  reached  the  very  height  and  per-* 
"  fection  of  this  passion,  the  love  of  God,  whom  you  have 
"  not  seen  ?  that  is,  whose  wonderful  oeconomy  in  his 
"  system  of  creation,  which  makes  him  so  amiable,  you 
u  cannot  have  the  least  conception  of;  you,  who  have 
u  not  yet  learnt  that  your  own  private  system  is  supported 
"  on  the  great  principle  of  benevolence  ?  Fear  him, 
"flatter  him,  Jight  for  him,  as  you  dread  his  power, 
''  you  may  ;  but  to  love  him,  as  you  know  not  his  nature, 
"  is  impossible."  This  is  the  Apostle's  grand  and 
sublime  reasoning ;  and  it  is  with  the  same  thought  on 
which  the  Apostle  founds  his  argument,  that  our  moral 

*  1  John  rv,  20, 

Vo*.  XI.  L  Poet 


146  A  COMMENTARY,  &c. 

Poet  ends  his  Essay,  as  the  just  and  necessary  conclusion 

of  his  work : 

Self-love  but  serves  the  virtuous  mind  to  wake, 

As  the  small  pebble  stirs  the  peaceful  lake; 

Thfe  centre  mov'd,  a  circle  straight  succeeds, 

Another  still,  and  still  another  spreads  ; 

Friend,  parent,  neighbour,  first  it  will  embrace, 

His  country  next,  and  next,  all  human  race ; 

Wide,  and  more  wide,   th'  overflowings  of  the  mind 

Take  every  creature  in,  of  every  kind  ; 

Earth  smiles  around,  with  boundless  bounty  blest, 

AND  HEAVEN  BEHOLDS  ITS  IMAGE  IN  HIS  BREAST. 


REMARKS 

ON    A    BOOK    ENTITLED 

Future  Rewards  and  Punishments  believed  by  the  Ancients, 
particularly  the  Philosophers ; 

Wherein  some  Objections  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  WARBURTON,  in  his 
Diviue  Legation  of  Moses,  are  considered:    1742. 


WITH 

A  POSTSCRIPT, 

In  answer  to  some  Objections  of  DR.  SYKES; 
And  A  LETTER  to  Bishop  SMALLBP.OOK. 


Beware  lest  any  man  spoil  you  through  PmtOiOPHY  and  vain  deceit, 
tfter  the  traditions  of  men,  after  the  rudiments  of  the  world,  and  not  after 
CUBIIT.— Col.  ii.  8. 


ADVERTISEMENT 

TO    THE   SECOND    EDITION ; 
1742. 

THE  AUTHOR  of  the  Pamphlet  here  examined,  hath 
lately  made  a  public  confession  of  his  authorship,  signed 
with  hb  own  name ;  and  thereby  saved  himself  from  all 
farther  correction  of  this  kind.  For  he  who  is  so  lost  to 
shame,  as  a  WRITER,  to  own  what  he  before  wrote,  and 
so  lost  to  shame,  as  a  MAN,  to  own  what  lie  hath  now 
written,  must  needs  be  past  all  amendment,  the  only  rea 
sonable  view  in  correction.  I  shall  therefore  but  do,  what 
indeed  (were  it  any  more  than  repeating  what  he 
himself  hath  discovered  to  the  Public)  would  be  justly 
reckoned  the  cruellest  of  all  things,  tell  my  reader  the  name 
©f  fchis  Miserable;  which  we  find  to  be  I.  TILLARD. 


t    '49    I 


REMARK 


I; 

THOUGH  I  could  not  persuade  myself  to  lake  this 
notice  of  such  a  kind  of  Writer  as  iiiaa  of  the 
Miscellany  y  yet  a  very  little  thing,  the  reader  sees,  will 
engage  me  to  give  an  adversary  satisfaction  ;  wMle  I 
suffer  myself  to  be  seduced  iato  a  controversy  fey  the 
Writer  of  a  late  Book,.  entitled.  Future  Rewards  md 
Punishments  believed  by  the  Ancients,  particufariy  ike 
Philosophers  ;  wherein  seme  Objections  oj  ike  Revermd 
Mr.  WarburtoOj  m  his:  Divine  Legation  of  Mas  is,  ®^e 
considered** 

And  a  very  little  thing  it  was  ;  only  the  finding  In  his 
book  one  single  truth,  which  does  me  a  piece  of  justke,, 
that  the  orthodox?  Writer  above-mentioned  would  by  na 
means  be  brought  unto,  even  after  his  ceawietibn  of 
calumny  on  that  head.  It  is  in  these  words;  Bt&tltfn&t 
here  da  m  muck  justice  to  Mr.  Warburtoti,,  ess  t®  ttcfaaxm* 
kdgey  that  the  point  he  denie^  is>  that  ihe  philosophers 
twig  did  not  believe  future  rewards  and  pwiukme*i$$i 
whereas  he  allows  all  others  did  believe  them,  p.  £4. 

For  the  rest,  neither  his  abilities  nor  his  ctm&tnr  de 
served  this  notice.  His  abilities  are  duly  celebrated  in 
these  few  sheets  ;  and  for  his  wmdQwr,  the  Tedder  wiil, 
I  believe>  require  no  farther  proof  than  the  folkmkg  :  — 
After  all  these  lively  descript'wm  —  ij  there  am 
doubt  remain  m  the  readers  breast  —  it  mmt 
the  influence  *xJpnpwttp&*  ?/  &  J'ew  vcmd®!® 
siom  now  and  then  thr&wq  out  to,  depreciate  tfo 
phers>  by  certain  pers&m%  whet*  tfamkwg 
obliged  to  say  something  out  oj  the  common  ra#4 
frequently  discover  their  IGNORANCE  AND  WANT  OF 

SENSE   IN    THE   VERY    ATTEMPT    TO    IMSIMAY 


8vo.  London,  1740^    PiiDted  by  M.  Steea»  m  t 

1*  3  UA&KlgCt  5 


150  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

LEARNING:    But  that  SUCH  PRETENDERS  TO  KNOW 
LEDGE,    SUCH    EMPTY    MIMICS  OF  REAL  WORTH,    MAY 

NO  LONGER  IMPOSE  upon  persons  of  good  understanding 
~ I  shall,  8$c.  pp.  164,   165. 

But  though  I  shew  this  distinction  to  a  puny  truth  half 
overlaid,  which  I  was  forced  to  draw  from  under  an  un 
wieldy  heap  of  blunders  and  prevarications :  yet,  let  it 
be  observed,  that  this  is  only  for  once,  and  out  of  due 
regard  to  the  first  writer  against  rne,  that  has  condescend 
ed  to  say  any  thing  truly  of  me :  For  I  hope  comrnorr 
honesty  is  not  so  rare,  even  amongst  Answerers  by  pro 
fession  (of  all  sober  knaves  the  most  corrupt)  that  this 
tribute  need  be  paid  twice  unto  it. 

My  Considerer  begins  his  preface  thus  :  The  motive 
which  principally  induced  me  to  publish  thejollowing  col 
lection  and  observations,  was  the  strange  and  unjustifiable 
methods  which  some  men  take  to  advance  their  oivn 
SYSTEMS  by  depreciating  and  running  down  those  of 
others,  p.  iii.  The  reader  sees  what  the  man  would  be 
at.  Here  is  no  disguise  or  reserve,  however.  It  is  the  old 
infidel  grudge  against  the  intolerant  spirit  of  Christianity, 
delivered  as  crudely  as  ever  his  dear  friends,  the  philo 
sophers,  urged  it  against  the  primitive  apologists.  Their 
great  quarrel  to  Christianity  was,  that  its  defenders  en 
deavoured  to  advance  their  own  systems,  by  depreciating 
and  running  down  those  of  others  * :  And  this,  in  their, 
and  in  their  advocates  opinion,  was  a  strange  and  un- 
justijiable  method.  And  how  should  he  think  otheruise  ? 
when  he  has  so  mean  an  opinion  of  the  cause  of  Revela 
tion,  as  to  tell  us  presently  after,  That  most  of  that  vast 
number  of  books  that  have  been  wrote  to  prove  the  ne 
cessity  and  excellency  of  our  holy  religion,  are  thought 
very  mean  and  insufficient  by  the  unprejudiced  and  in 
quisitive  adversary,  but  appear  in  a  very  different  light 
to  the  mob  of  Christians,  who,  by  the  happy  prejudice 
of  education,  have  been  brought  up  to  doubt  of  nothing. 
But  hear  him  in  his  own  more  emphatic  words.  The  vast 
member  of  books  and  pamphlets  which  have  of  late  years 
been  so  plentifully  poured  out,  to  prove  the  necessity  and 
excellency  of  our  holy  religion,  certainly  deserve  the 
approbation  and  thanks  of  every  zealous  and  truly  devout 

*  See  the  Divine  Lcgat.  Book  II.  §  6. 

Christian : 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD,  151 

Christian  :  And  though  many  of  these  performances  have 

been  THOUGHT  BY  THE  ADVERSARY  VERY  MEAN  AKB 

INSUFFICIENT,  yet  they  have  appeared  in  a  quite  dij~ 

ferent  light  in  the  eyes  of  the  bulk  of  mankind;  WHO, 

FROM  THE  HAPPY  CAST  OF  THEIR  NATIVITY,  HAVE, 
IN  THEIR  EARLIEST  AGE,  BEEN  TAUGHT  TO  FORM  A 
31UCH  BETTER  JUDGMENT  OF  THINGS;  ANI>  WHO, 
SELDOM  HAVING  ANY  DOUBTS  OR  SCRUPLES  TO  DIS 

TURB  THEM,  are  therefore  the  easier  confirmed  in  the 
quiet  and  [full  persuasion  of  'these  doctrines  THEY  AT  FIRST 
RECEIVED,  pp.  iii.  iv. 

Had  I  not  reason  to  say  as  I  did,  "  That  the  heathen 
"  philosophers  of  our  times  might  be  well  excused  in 
;f  being  angry,  to  see  their  ancient  brethren  shewn  for 
"  knaves  in  practice,  and  fools  in  theory  ;  but  that  any 
"  else  should  think  themselves  concerned  in  the  force  and 
"  fidelity  of  the  drawing,  was  a  mystery  I  did  not  know 
"  what  to  make  of*  ?  " 

It  is  therefore  matter  of  much  consolation  to  ine,  to 
find  that  the  real  friends  of  Revelation  have  at  length  left 
these  heathen  philosophers  (the  men  whom  only  it  con 
cerns)  to  dispute  this  point  with  me.  I  have  now  got  a 
gentleman  freethinker  under  my  haads  ;  and,  if  those 
other  folks  will  be  but  easy,  111  promise  to  give  a  good 
account  of  him. 

Our  Consider  er  proceeds  to  shew  the  reasons  why  some 
defenders  of  Christianity  will  not  acknowledge  the  doc 
trine  contained  in  his  book,  lie  graciously  acquits  them 
of  all  malice  and  design,  and  throws  it  first, 

i.  Upon  their  ignorance.  The  first  of  which  is  the 
ignorance,  in  this  particular,  of  by  far  the  greatest  part 
of  them  [defenders  of  Christianity]  wh&  realty  do  not 
know  that  rewards  and  punishments  in  another  life  (tre 
any  where  spoken  of  but  in  the  New  Testament,  imkss  it 
be  in  some  dark  andfigurative  terms,  which  (AS  IF  THERK 

WERE    NONE    SUCH    AMONGST  THEMSELVES)  tke$  tkmk 

they  have  a  right  to  laugh  at  and  expose*      They  re 
member,  perhaps,  some  storks  hi  their  se/fetil-lto&ks  of 


Elysium,  of  Tartarus,   of  Cerberus,  <%T»  and 
very  hastily,  that  this  was  ail  that  was  ever  thcwgfet 
of  or  believed  by  the  Heathens  concerning  a 
*  Div.  Leg.  Book  III.  5  4. 

L  4 


152  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

come .  p.  v.  It  was  not  for  nothing,  we  find,  that  he  despised 
the  defenders  of  Christianity  as  scribblers,  whom  none 
but  a  prejudiced  mob  would  give  any  credit  to  :  For  the 
for  greatest  part  of  them,  it  seems,  knew  no  more  of 
antiquity  than  a  few  stories  in  their  school-books.  But 
who  can  enough  admire  the  modesty  of  this,  in  one,  who 
confesses  he  has  forgot  hisGree&,  and  this  only  in  order  to 
insinuate  that  he  has  some  Latin  which  yet  sticks  by  him? 

2.  lie  throws  it,  Secondly,  Upon  their  prejudices,  that 
is,  their  great  attachment  to  their  own  religion.  On  this 
head,  he  talks  I  don't  know  what — of  captivated  lovers, 
pious  zeal,  prejudice  of  education,  interest,  prejer- 
ment;  in  short  the  common  dog-trot  of  infidelity  and 
freethinking. 

After  this  specimen  of  his  modesty,  he  presents  us  with 
one  of  his  abilities.  As  to  what  relates  (says  he)  to  the 
subject  oj the  following  sheets,  the  case  in  fact  is  this. 
It  is  indisputably  true,  and  beyond  all  reasonable  contra- 
diction,  that  the  doctrine  ofjuture  rewards  and  punish 
ments  is  clearly  and  plainly  delivered  and  laid  down  in  the 
A'ew?  Testament:  And  it  is  as  indisputably  true,  and 
beyond  all  reasonable  contradiction,  that  the  doctrine 
ofjuture  rewards  and  punishments  is  CLEARLY  AND 

PLAINLY  DELIVERED  AND    LAID    DOWN    in    the    books 

and  writings  of  the  Heathens.  THE  TRUTH  OF  WHICH 
POINT  is  now  submitted  to  the  judgment  of  every  im 
partial  reader,  p.  vii.  This  indisputable  point,  which 
he  writes  a  book  to  prove,  is,  I  believe,  strictly  so.  At 
least  it  was  never  disputed  by  his  humble  servant.  On 
the  contrary,  I  have  said,  the  heathen  philosophers 
were  perpetually  inculcating  to  the  people  the  doctrine 
of  a  Juture  state  of  rewards  and  punishments  in  their 
discourses  and  writings*.  But  his  title-page  professes 
to  prove  the  truth  ol  a  very  different  point,  not  quite  so 
indisputable.  Future  Rewards  and  Punishments  BE 
LIEVED  by  the  Antients,  particularly  the  Philosophers, 
wherein  some  Objections  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  W.  in  his 
Divine  Legation  of  MOSES  are  considered.  Thus  we  see 
this  able  writer  has  mistaken  his  question  before  he  be 
got  to  the  end  of  his  Preface.  Dids  me  de  contienda  con 
quien  me  enticnda,  says  the  Spanish  Proverb,  God  grant 
9  Div.  Leg.  Book  III.  §  2. 

me 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

me  an  adversary  that  understands  me.  But,  wretch 
that  I  am,  after  having  met  with  such  an  adversary,  I 
arn  now  forced  to  contend  with  one  that  does  not  under 
stand  himself. 

His  Pretace  concludes  thus :  I  thought  once  to  have 
changed  the  order  in  which  the  quotations  of  the  second 
chapter  are  placed.  BUT  METHOD  IN  SUCH  CASES  DE^ 
FENDING  ALMOST  AS  MUCH  UPON  THE  FANCY  OF 

EVERY  READER  AS  THE  REAL  PROPRIETY  OF  THE 

THING  ITSELF,  I  chose  rather  to  submit  them  as  they 
are,  £c.  p.  ix.  By  these  his  frank  sentiments  of  method, 
it  appears  lie  has  forgot  his  logic  too,  if  ever  he  had  any, 
as  well  as  his  Greek,  which,  he  tells  ust  he  had  neglected, 
like  Lord  Chief  Justice  Hale,  by  a  long  advocation  to 
studies  of  quite  another  nature,  p.  viii.  Whatever  his 
studies  were,  he  can  scarce  persuade  the  reader  to  think 
them  like  Lord  Chief' Just  ice  Holes.  That  learned  man 
indeed  lost  his  Greek,  but  got  a  great  deal  of  good  seme. 
Our  Author  too  has  lost  his  Greek*  And  what  has  he  got? 
tylarry,  the  knack  of  writing  without  any  sense  at  all. 

II.  We  come  now  to  Knjirst  chapter,  the  only  one 
that  I  am  concerned  in ;  and  therefore  the  only  one  I 
shall,  at  present,  give  myself  the  trouble  of  considering. 
As  just  before  he  had  innocently  blundered  out  of  the 
question ;  so  now  by  entering  on  his  attendance  on  the 
Author  of  The  Divine  Legation^  he  has  as  innocently 
blundered  into  it :  And  thus  has  set  all  right  again. 

After  having  frankly  told  the  reader,  that  the  Author 
of  The  Divine  Legation  had  not  the  direct  and  immediate 
discovery  of  truth,  and  the  REAL  and  SUBSTANTIAL 
improvement  of  mankind  [/.  e.  the  recommendation  of 
Pagan  Philosophy]  in  his  thoughts  and  studies,  but  the 
advancement  of  a  certain  favourite  scheme  [i.  e.  of  Reve 
lation]  he  goes  on  to  quote  the  apologies  I  make  for 
venturing  to  deny  a  commonly  received  opinion.  On 
which  he  thus  descants :  By  all  which,  and  indeed  his 
whole  manner  of  treating  ^  this  subject,  he  plainly  dis 
covers  such  a  great,  distrust  of  his  arguments  and  con 
clusions  to  convince  the  judgment  of  his  reader,  that, 
&;c.  pp.  V —3.  I  am  a  very  unlucky  Writer.  If  I  express 
myself  with  confidence,  I  am  supposed  to  distrust  other 
men's  opinions ;  if  with  diffidence,  my  own.  But  let  him 

rest 


J54  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

jest  himself  content.  I  arn  under  no  manner  of  dlffi- 
cfence.  Or,  if  I  had  any,  his  writing  against  me  had 
easily  removed  it.  However,  in  this  I  shall  never  recri 
minate.  I  confess7,  he  writes  all  the  way  as  much  without 
fear  as  wit 

/  shall  (says  our  crafty  Advocate)  pass  over  his  nice 
distinctions,  division*?,  and  subdivisions,  p.  3.  Now  this,, 
I  cannot  but  think  hard.  He  had  before  made  his 
exceptions  to  Greek,  and  I  dare  say  he  would  think  it 
unfair  to  have  it  urged  against  him  after  he  had  so  fairly 
pleaded  Ignoramus  to  it ;  yet  a  critical  use  of  that  lan 
guage  is  alone  sufficient  to  determine  a  decisive  question 
in  this  controversy,  namely,  of  ttte  Spinozism  of  the 
(indent  philosophers :  and  here  he  debars  me  all  benefit 
of  logic,  and  won't  have  patience  while  I  state  the 
question,  and  divide  the  subject.  I  shall  pass  over  (says 
ne)  his  nice  distinctions,  division,  and  subdivisions.  So 
that  because  he  knows  neither  Greek  nor  method,  I  shall" 
use  none.  Here  then  I  might  fairly  dismiss  this  minute 
philosopher,  who  dares  me  to  the  combat,  and  yet  except* 
against  all  the  weapons  in  use.  But  not  to  disappoint 
the  company  we  have  brought  together,  I  will  accept  his 
challenge,  and  fight  him  with  his  own  wooden  dagger. 

/  proceed  (says  he)  directly  to  take  notice  of  those 
reasons  which,  IN  MY  APPREHENSION,  any  ways  affect 
the  present  question  ;  and  these,  I  think,  may  be  reduced 
to  two.  ist,  "•  That  the  philosophers  held  it  lawful,  for 
"  the  public  good,  to  say  one  thing^  when  they  thought 
"  another,  and  that  they  actually  did  so.  2dly,  That 
"  they  held  some  fundamental  principles  of  philosophy ; 
"  which  were  altogether  inconsistent  with  the  doctrine  of 
"future  rewards  and  punishments"  pp.  3,  4.  But  surely, 
if  he  will  needs  write  against  me,  his  business  is  not  only 
to  consider  what,  in  his  apprehension,  tends  to  the  proof 
of  my  point,  but  likewise  what  in  my  apprehension  I  had 
said  does  so.  For  instance,  in  his  apprehension,  this  argu 
ment,  That  the  philosophers  held  it  lawful  in  general  to 
say  one  thing,  when  they  thought  another,  and  this,  that 
they  actually  did  so,  tends  to  the  proof  of  my  point.  And, 
in  my  apprehension,  this  other  argument  likewise,  That 
the  philosophers  acted  on  the  above  principle,  with  regard 
to  a  future  stale  of  rewards  and  punishments,  the  very 

doctrine 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  155 

doctrine  in  question,  has,  at  least,  as  strong  a  tendency : 
For  which  reason  I  had  employed  six  large  pages  to 
inforce  it.  But  to  all  this  rny  adversary  has  thought  fit 
to  say — Nothing. 

However,  if  he  will  needs  confine  the  strength  of  my 
discourse  to  those  two  points,  I  must  be  content,  and 
accept  the  best  terms  he  can  be  brought  to.  Nor  will 
the  reader  perhaps  think  these  bad  ones.  But,  alas  !  he 
yet  knows  little  of  our  advocate.  Of  a  hundred  argu 
ments  from  reason  and  authority  which  support  those 
two  points,  he  has  not  ventured  so  much  as  at  a  deci 
mation  ;  and  his  attack  of  those  few  he  shuffles  off  in  so 
evasive  a  manner,  as  would  never  get  him  victory  in  the, 
schools,  (p  3.)  nor  hardly  credit  at  the  bar.  But  what 
would  he  not  do,  or  what  would  he  not  forbear  to  do, 
for  his  philosophers  ?  For  if  that  set  of  modern  heathens, 
as  he  gravely  tells  us,  ARE  NOT  FAR  FROM  THE  KING 
DOM  OF  GOD,  who  being  really  in  good  earnest  in  the 
search  of  truth,  have  without  prejudice  considered,  and 
have  calmly,  seriously,  and  with  the  utmost  diligence 
examined  into  the  obligation  of  the  several  religions,  or 
sects  of  religion,  which  now  prevail  in  the  world',  and 
after  the  maturest  deliberation  are  satisfied  there  is 
nothing  extraordinary  or  immediately  divine  in  any  of 
them ;  but  that,  upon  the  whole,  all  which  they  contain 
or  pretend  to  (except  what  relates  to  our  duty  to  Goa\ 
and  our  obligations  to  morality)  is  merely  human  inven 
tion,  and  the  product  of  design,  of  error,  or  of  enthu 
siasm,  pp.  201,  202.  If  these  be  so  near  day,  in  what 
a  hopeful  condition  are  those  of  the  'elder  house,  who 
certainly  cannot  be  said  to  have  rejected  the  Gospel; 
though  so  ready  to  give  a  diligent  and  dispassionate 
examination  to  any  thing  that  would  afford  room  for  a 
dispute. 

III.  But  wre  must  take  him  as  we  find  him,  and  be 
thankful.  The  reader  will  say  presently  we  have  reason. 
For  he  now  proceeds  to  the  confutation  of  the  first  point, 
That  the  philosophers  held  it  lawful,  for  public  good,  to 
say  one  thing,  when  they  thought  another.  And  how 
does  he  set  about  it?  Truly  in  a  very  new  way.  By 
PROVING  it  at  large,  from  the  fourth  to  the  sixteenth 

page: 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARIX 

page :  which,  he  honestly,  for  the  second  time,  concludes 
thus:  all  which  is,  in  effect^  no  more  than  what  Mr. 
Warburton  himself  says.  pp.  16^  17.  Why,  no-;  brat  h© 
being  able  to  say  it  so  much  better.,  had  a  mind  to  shew 
Ihss  parts.  And  now,  according  ta  his  own  confession* 
the  philosophers  holding  it  laicjulr  for  the  public  good> 
to  say  one  thing  when  they  thought  another ;  and  I  having 
proved,  to  which  proof  he  has  not  opposed  a  single 
syllable,  that  they  practised  this  rule  in  the  very  point 
m  question,  the  dispute  is  fairly  at  an  end.  This  will 
eertainly  surprise  our  less  attentive  readers:  but  they 
jjBust  know,  all  this  good-natured  pains  was  neither  for 
their  sakes  nor  for  mine,  but  for  his  dear  philosophers. 
The  ease  stood  thus  ;  when  I  spoke  of  the  double  doctrine^ 
I  considered  the  practice  of  it  as  not  altogether  free  from 
fclame.  Not  that  this  representation  contributed  to  prove 
ft  practised  in  the  point  in  question,  but  because  I 
thought  the  representation  true.  But  my  adversary^  as 
we  see,  having  taken  it  for  granted^  that  /  had  not  the. 
direct  and  immediate  discovery  of  TRUTH  in  my  thoughts 
and  studies^  had  nothing  left,  but  the  first  reason  to  assign 
for  my  representation,  which  affecting  the  credit  of  his 
ina&iters,,  he  will  endeavour,  as  great  an  enemy  as  he  is  to 
dvuismis  and  disthwtiom,  to  distinguish  away  this  oppro 
brium.  He  therefore  divides  the  practice  of  the  double 
doctrine  into  two  sorts.  The  oiae,  a  little  criminal :  th& 
ether,  quite  free  from  blame.  And  to  shew  his- judgment, 
in  the  first  class  he  places  priests  aad  politicians,  and.  in 
the  second,  the  Chinese  Literati,  who  taught  Atheism  ia 
private  ;  and  Orpheus,  who  against  his  conscience,  as  ha 
says,  taught  Polytheism  in  public,  pp.  7  and  12 — 14* 
But  the  class  of  innocents,  you  may  be  sure>  was  erected 
chiefly  for  his  dear  philosophers,  whose  double  doctrine  he. 
impiously  compares  to  the  practices  of  the  ever  blessed 
Jesus,  pp.  30 — 3Q.  For  which  I  remit  him  to  the 
&ppainted  defenders  of  religion  :  who  will,  I  hops,  give 
him-  due  correction  for  all  his  insults  on  their  ignorance 
and  their  school-books. 

The  mighty  argument  then  he  labours  with,  and  for  the 
sake  of  which  he  has,  before  he  was  aware,  given  up  the 
whole  cause,  is  this :  "  The  philosophers'  practice  of  the 
91  double  doctrine  was  innocent  and  laudable :  therefore 

"it 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

*  it  could  never  be  employed  to  preach  up  a  future  state 
*'  of  rewards  and  punishments  in  public,  and  to  preach  it 
"  down  in  private." — This,  I  suppose,  lie  would  have 
said,  had  he  known  how  to  express  his  own  meaning. 
Let  us  see  then  what  force  it  has  upon  his  principles. 
For,  as  much  as  he  contends  for  the  propagation  of  truth, 
he  is  not  likely  to  die  a  martyr  to  it;  as  you  may  hear 
by  his  talking — To  disturb  the  public  peace,  to  break  the 
laws,  and  fruitlessly  to  expose  ourselves  to  manifest  danger 
for  the  sake  of  propagating  our  religion,,  SEEMS  TO 

CARHY  A  CONTRADICTION  IN   ITSELF,    Ottd  Would  llted 

no  confutation,  if  the  mistaken  principles  and  practice  of 
&  few  zealots  did  not  inflame  some  people  to  think  other* 
wise,  p,  43.  It  is  no  wonder  this  should  raise  his  indig 
nation.  For  had  not  Christ  and  his  apostles  been  guilty 
of  the  very  misdemeanor  that,  he  tells  us,  carries  a  con 
tradiction  in  itself  (which,  whatever  it  means  in  bis 
jargon,  is  .surely  something  very  bad)  we  had  never  bad 
the  poor  philosophers  at  this  time  of  day  so  disgracefully 
pushed  beside  the  chair.  But  for  this,  I  again  send  Mm 
to  be  disciplined  by  the  defenders  aforesaid ;  and  go  on 
to  try  his  argument  on  his  own  principle.  The  pkiioeo* 
fhers,  as  lie  confesses,  used,  for  the  public  good,  to  my 
om  thing  when  they  thought  another.  They  saw  that 
the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments 
was  firmly  believed  by  the  people,  and  of  infinite  service 
to  society.  But  their  speculative  opinions  led  them  to 
reject  it.  What  was  to  -be  done  ?  Telling  what  they 
thought  the  truth  would  be  injurious,  on  the  supposition, 
both  to  society  and  themselves.  And  (as  he  assures  us) 
fruitlessly  to  expose  ones  self  to  manifest  danger  for  the 
sake  of  propagating  ones  religion,  seems  to  carry  a  con 
tradiction  in  itself.  Here  then  their  principle  of  saying 
one  thing  when  they  thought  another,  came  in  practice, 
nothing  being  left,  but  to  profess  in  public,  and  believe  in 
private.  But  he  will  say,  perhaps,  that  sincere  impartial 
inquirers  after  truth,  like  his  philosophers,  could  not, 
after  the  most  careful  examination,  reject  the  doctrine  of 
future  rewards  and  punishments.  Why  not,  I  ask  him  ? 
They  might  be  as  costive  of  belief,  for  aught  he  knows,  as 
his  favourite  class  of  free-thinkers;  who,  with  the  same 
qualifications;  reject  all  Revelation  in  general.  But  it  ran 

strangely 


15$  REMARKS  OX  TILLARD. 

strangely  in  his  head,  that  if  I  thought  the  philosophers 
practised  the  double  doctrine  on  the  point  in  question, 
I  must  needs  suppose  they  had  no  jived  principles. — But 
it  is  very  unreasonable  (says  he)  and  wyust  from  hence 
to  conclude,  that  they  who  do  so,  have  no  belief  of  their 
men,  or  that  they  think  all  religion  whatever  the  inven 
tion  of  designing  men.  And  again, — So  that,  notwith 
standing  their  double  doctrine,  they  had  still  some  JLred 
ones  of  their  own.  pp.  45.  47.  Why,  thou  mighty  de 
fender  of  heathen  wisdom !  who  ever  said  they  had  not ! 
Or  who  hut  such  a  defender  would  not  have  seen,  that 
all  the  force  of  my  argument  rests  upon  this  very  truth, 
that  they  had  fixed  principles,  that  they  had  a  belief  of 
their  own? 

But  as  if  he  had  not  done  enough  in  this  obliging  way, 
he  w^ill  go  on,  and  prove  for  me,  that  the  double  doctrine 
was  not  about  different  opinions,  but  the  same.  I  indeed 
thought  it  incumbent  on  me  to  shew  this  :  because  it  was 
bringing  my  argument  home  to  the  point,  that  a  future 
state  was  one  of  the  objects  of  the  double  doctrine.  But 
how  it  could  be  made  to  serve  his  purpose,  was  quite 
beyond  my  reach.  Judge  then  of  my  surprise,  when  I 
saw  him  attempt  to  prove  it  at  large ;  and  to  conclude 
his  proof  thus:  it  appears  then  that  the  external  doctrine 
related  to  the  sa?ne  thing  as  the  internal,  p.  24.  I  was 
some  time  at  a  loss  for  his  meaning  in  the  former  case : 
but  here  I  gave  over  the  search  as  desperate.  Not  but 
I  concluded  there  was  mischief  somewhere.  At  last  I 
found  this  slender  thing  of  an  argument  lie  lurking  under 
a  conundrum.  I  don't  know  whether  it  will  bear  the 
handling;  but  at  present  it  hangs  together  thus  :  "  The 
"  external  doctrine  related  to  the  same  thing  as  the 
"  internal.  Now  a  future  state  is  one  thing,  and  no 
"future  state,  another.  These  therefore  being  two, 
"  could  not  be  the  object  of  the  double  doctrine,  which 
"  was  concerned  with  one  thing  only."  But  our  advocate 
is  so  far  from  being  able  to  make  a  good  argument,  that, 
to  the  shame  of  his  profession,  he  knows  not  how  to 
make  a  good  quibble.  For  I  had  all  along  affirmed  the 
philosophers,  both  in  their  external  ^A  internal  teaching, 
held  a  future  state  (here's  his  one  and  the  same  thing  for 
him:)  in  their  external,  a  future  state  with  rewards  and 
2  punishments ; 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

punishments;  in  their  internal,  a  future  state  without 
them. 

But  though  he  contends,  that  the  external  .doctrine 
related  to  the  same  thing  with  the  internal,  yet  it  does 
not  (he  says)  m  the  least  appear,  that  the  philosophers 
believed  one  thing,  and  taught  a  quite  contrary  to  tte 
people,  p,  19.  This  is  strange  indeed.  These  philoso 
phers  then  must  be  like  their  advocate,  and  teach  nothbig* 
Otherwise,  if  the  external  teaching  was  for  the  people, 
and  the  internal  what  the  people  could  not  be  trusted  with, 
and  both  about  the  same  thing,  the  two  ways  of  teaching 
must  certainly  proceed  upon  contrary  propositions.  Btit, 
perhaps,  in  the  humour  he  is  now  in,  an  authority  may 
be  better  liked  than  a  reason.  I  will  give  him  one  above 
all  exception :  his  own.  In  another  place  he  tells  us, 
it  did  fully  appear,  that  the  philosophers  believed  one. 
thing,  and  taught  a  quite  contrary  to  the  people ;  for  be 

SaYS THE  EXTERNAL  THEREFORE  MUST  BE  JUST  THE 

REVERSE  [to  the  internal]  WITH   RELATION  TO  THE 

SAME  POINTS,  p.  24. 

IV.  Our  advocate  hath  given  me  so  little  room  t® 
quarrel  with  him  on  this  head,  that  the  reader  must  needs 
have  had  a  very  poor  and  meagre  entertainment.  No 
thing  but  a  still-born  blunder,  and  the  ghost  of  a  departed 
quibble.  He  must  therefore  be  content  to  make  out  his 
treat  with  what  cold  scraps  I  can  pick  up  from  the  over- 
sodden  crambe  of  his  logic  and  liter  at  are. 

In  the  fifth  page  he  says,  Mr.  Warburton  EXPRESSES 
kimselfvery  AMBIGUOUSLY,  where  he  asserts  that  they 
held  it  lawful,  for  the  public  good,  to  say  one  thing  whm 
they  thought  another.  FOR,  in  the  present  question,  if 
we  understand  by  this,  that  the  philosophers  believed  & 
future  state  in  a  spiritual,  refined,  and  rational  sense., 
while,  they  sometimes  countenanced  the  people  in  their 
gross,  vulgar,  and  corporeal  notions  of  it,  then  what  he 
lays  down  is  certainly  true:  but  if  we  understand  it,  AS 
HE  INTENDS  WE  SHOULD,  that  the  philosophers  preached 
the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  to  the  people,  while  them 
selves  believed  the  contrary,  viz.  that  there  was  no  future 
state  of  rewards  and  punishments  at  a/I;  then  his  charge 
vn  the  philosophers  is  absolutely  false. 

The 


i6a  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

The  logic  of  this  incomparable  period  stands  thus : 

1.  First  I  talk  ambiguously,  BECAUSE  it  is  in  his  power 
to  misunderstand  me ;  for  in  the  present  case  (says  he) 
if  WE  understand,  Sic.  not  because  of  any  thing  I  myself 
said,  or  omitted  to  say.     For  when  I  asserted  what  he 
here  lays  to  my  charge,  I  had  added,  that  the  philosophers 
preached  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  regards  and 
punishments  to  the  people,  white  themselves  believed  the 
contrary  ;  and  repeated  it  so  often  over,  that  this  writer 
himself,  who  accuses  me  of  expressing  myself  ambiguously, 
confesses,  in  the  very  attempt  to  prove  his  accusation, 
that  he  knows  my  meaning.     But  if  we  understand  it 
(says  he)  AS  HE  INTENDS- WE  SHOULD 

2.  Secondly,   I  talk  ambiguously,    BECAUSE,    in  his 
sense  of  the  words,  they  are  true — in  mine,  not  true. 

These  are  such  discoveries  in  the  art  of  reasoning, 
that  I  could  almost  wish  the  Author  would  add  a  chapter 
of  ambiguities  to  our  common  logics.  A  thing,  I'll 
assure  him,  very  much  wanted. 

In  his  ijth  page  we  have  these  words,  Notwith 
standing  which  [viz.  the  double-doctrine]  the  design  and 
end  of  the  philosophers  in  both,  was  still  in  general  the 
same,  that  is,  to  improve  mankind  as  much  as  they  would 
bear ;  and  the  doctrines  in  substance  and  at  the  bottom 
were  all  along  one  and  the  same',  JUST  AS  true  Chris 
tianity  MAY  NOW  BE,  though  in  some  countries  scarce 
discernible,  being  overwhelmed  with  legends,  false  mira 
cles,  image-worship,  and  all  the  trumpery  of  Popish 
superstition. 

Here's  a  period,  let  me  tell  you,  that  has  no  weak  side 
of  sense,  but  is  impenetrable  all  round.  Does  he  mean 
that  the  external  and  internal  doctrines  of  the  philoso 
phers  were  in  general  the  same,  just  as  pure  Christianity, 
and  corrupt  Christianity  overwhelmed  with  legends,  false 
miracles,  image-worship,  and  all  the  trumpery  of  Popish 
superstition,  are  in  general  the  same  ?  Or  does  he  mean 
that  the  external  and  internal  doctrines  of  the  philosophers 
were  both  to  improve  mankind  as  much  as  they  could 
bear,  just  as  pure  Christianity,  and  corrupt  Christianity 
overwhelmed  with  legends,  false  miracles,  image-worship^ 
and  all  the  trumpery  of  Popish  superstition,  are  both  to 
improve  mankind  as  much  as  they  can  bear  ?  Or,  lastly, 

which 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  161 


which  perhaps  should  have  been  asked  first,  had  he  any 
meaning  at  all  ?  However  it  is  every  way  so  profound, 
that  I  should  advise  him  to  add  a  chapter  of  comparisons 
to  his  chapter  of  ambiguities,  that  the  one  may  furnish  us 
with  examples  to  fit  his  rules  in  the  other.  This  shall 
suffice  at  present  for  a  specimen  of  his  Art  of  Reasoning* 

Let  us  turn  to  his  literature,  and  see  first  how  he 
manages  his  Latin  translations. 

He  gives  us  the  following  quotation  from  -/Elian's 
Various  History* :  It  a  vero  etiam  So  cr  at  em  non  explicit  e 
disserere1,  si  quis  ant  em  eas  dissertationes  CON  VERT  AT, 
planissimas  esse ;  and  translates  it  thus  :  Socrates  used  to 
talk  ambiguously ;  but  if  any  one  turns  and  SIFTS  his 
discourses  WITH  ATTENTION,  they  will  appear  most  plain 
and  easy.  p.  1 8. 

The  reader  will  seek  to  no  purpose  in  the  Latin  for 
sifts  with  attention-,  but  this  was  the  paraphrase  of  a 
word  he  did  not  understand,  cotmertat,  rf^f*,  used  by 
the  Author  in  allusion  to  its  literal,  not  figurative 
sense.  JElian  had  just  before  told  a  story  of  one,  a 
connoisseur  like  our  Advocate,  who  would  needs  have  a 
horse  painted  rolling  on  his  back.  The  artist  brought 
him  a  running  horse;  which  not  contenting  him,  the 
other  put  it  into  the  posture  required,  by  turning  the 
picture  upside  down.  Turn  Socrates  thus,  says  £titm* 
and  you  have  his  true  meaning.  That  is,  understand 
him  by  contraries.  And  this  rule  was  given  with  judg 
ment.  For  Socrates  being  perpetually  ironical,  take  him 
in  the  reverse,  and  he  is  in  his  right  senses.  But  our 
Advocate  knew  as  little  of  Socrates  a  character  as  of  his 
Translator's  Latin.  "  Pausonem  enim  pictorem,  quum 
"  audivisset  a  quodam,  ut  yolutantem  se  equum  pmgeret, 
"  current  em  eum  pinxisse.  Quum  igitur  is  qui  tabulam 
"  pingendam  locdrat,  indignaretur,  tanquam  contra  pac- 
"  turn  ille  pimisset,  respondisse  pictorem,  VERTE  [or* 
"  rf  ttj/e>]  tabulam,  8$  ita  volutam  tibi  esto  equus,  qui 
"  nunc  est  currem.  Ita  vero  etiam  Socratem  non  e.v- 
"  plicite  disserere;  si  quis  autem  eas  dissertationes  CON- 
'''  VERTAT  [rpgvjxft]  planissimas  esse."  Let  us  now  see  how 
ably  he  acquits  himself  of  his  original  writers. 

*  L.  xiv.  €.15. 
VOL.  XI,  M  He 


162  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

He  brings  a  passage  from  Macrobius  in  these  words, 
Si  quid  de  his  assignarc  conantur,  qua  ncn  sermonem 
tantumtnodo,  scd  cogitatknem  quoque  huinanam  super  ant, 
ad  similitudines  $  e.veiupla  conjugiunt. — Sic  ipsa  mysteria 
ftgurarum  cunicul/x  operiuntur;  ne  reY  hccc  adept  is  nuda 
rerurn  talium  se  natura  prabeat;  scd  summatibus  tantum 
viris  sapientia  interprete  veri  arcani  ccnsciis-,  content  I 
sint  reliqui  ad  \:enerat'wnem  figuris  dejcndcntibus  a 
militate  secret  urn,  i  Macrob.  2.  Ed.  Loud.  1694.  Wliich 
he  translates  thus  :  To  THE  SAME  PURPOSE  Macrobiux, 
speaking  of  God  and  Nature,  says,  The  philosophers 
when  iheij  treated  of  mch  subjects  as  were  beyond  all 
our  words,  and  exceeded  ccen  our  thoughts,  they  had 
recourse  to  similes  and  allusions.  FOR  THAT  THESE 

THINGS  WERE  AS    MYSiEIUES,  WHICH  THE  WISE  ONLY 

WERE  CAPABLE  OF  RECEIVING  ;  but  that  others  should 
be  content  WITH  AN  AWFUL  VENERATION  for  them 
under  the  veil  of  figures  and  allegories,  LEST  THEY 

SHOULD  BE  DESPISED,  p.   2O. 

This  comes  of  free- thinking,  and  leaving  his  school* 
books  to  the  clergy :  who  owe  him  a  shame  for  that  con 
temptuous  donation  *. 

i.  We  see  here,  he  makes  the  words,  Si  quid  de  his 
assjgnare  concuitur,  to  confugiunt,  to  relate  to  the  double 
doctrine  of  the  philosophers,  as  is  evident  by  this  intro 
duction,  To  the  same  purpose  Macrobius.  To  what 
purpose,  I  beseech  you?  Why,  to  the  purpose  of  Burnett 
words  immediately  preceding,  which  expressly  treat  of 
the  nature  of  the  twofold  doctrine  of  the  ancients.  But 
who  but  a  free-thinker,  would  not  have  found  that  these 
of  Macrobius  relate  to  a  quite  different  thing?  namely, 
the  inability  of  expressing  spiritual  and  abstract  ideas 
any  otherwise  than  by  words  conveying  sensible  and 
material  images.  Not,  like  the  external  doctrine,  a 
matter  of  choice,  but  necessity ;  a  necessity  arising  from 
the  nature  of  things.  A  way  of  speaking  the  philosophers 
could  not  avoid,  even  when  conveying  their  internal 
doctrine  to  their  adepts.  But  now  the  reader  will  be  apt 
to  ask,  if  this  be  so,  as  is  evident  even  from  the  words 
themselves,  what  must  we  do  with  the  rest  of  the  pas* 
*  2^e  the  quotation,  at  p.  151. 

sage, 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  163 

sage,  beginning  at  Sic  ipsa  mysteria — which  does  indeed 
relate  to  the  double  doctrine-,  for  it  gives  a  reason  why 
men  have  recourse,  to  similes  and  allusions,  a  reason 
founded  in  the  nature  and  expediency  of  the  double 
doctrine?  What  shall  I  say?  that  our  Advocate  has 
wilfully  murdered  and  dismembered  poor  Macrobius  ? 
or,  that  it  was  mere  chance-mediey?  Let  the  reader 
determine.  It  is  sufficient  he  be  made  to  know,  that  the 
latter  part  of  the  quotation,  beginning  at  Sic  ipsa  myste 
ria,  has  no  other  relation  to  the  former  part,  beginning  at 
Si  quid  de  his  assignare,  than  is  between  two  things  set 
in  direct  opposition  to  one  another. 

2.  Macrobius  had  observed,  that  the  philosophers  did 
not  admit  the  fabulous  in  all  their  disputations ;  but  in 
those  only  which  related  to  the  soul,  the  HEAVENLY 
BODIES,  and  the  HERO-GODS.  On  the  contrary,  when 
they  discoursed  of  the  First  Cause,  andthewj'raf  proceed 
ing  from  him,  that  then  every  thing  was  delivered  agree 
ably  to  strict  truth — "  Sciendum  est  tamen  -non  in  omncm 
"  disputationem  philosophos  admitterefabulosa  vel  licit  a  % 
"sect  his  uti  solent,  cum  vel  de  anima,  vel  de  yEims, 

"  jETHERIISVE     POTESTATIBUS,      Vel    de     CETER1S     D1S 

"  loquitntur.  Ceterum  cum  ad  summum  8$  principcm 
"  omnium  Deum,  qui  apud  Gr&cos  T*  dyMv  qui  -srpwrov 
"  amoi/  Huncupatur,  tractatus  se  audet  attollere;  vel  ad 
"  merit  em,  quam  Graci  vzv  appellant,  originates  reriun 
"  species,  qua  l$iou  dicta  sunt,  continentem,  ex  summo 
"  natam  8$  project  am  Deo :  cum  de  his,  inquam,  loquun- 
"  tur,  summo  Deo  Sf  mente,  nihil  fabulosum  peniius 
"  attingunt"  But  then  he  immediately  subjoins,  in  the 
words  in  question,  that,  though  here  they  spoke  nothing 
but  the  truth,  yet,  by  reason  of  the  high  abstraction  and 
spiritual  nature  of  the  subject,  they  were  unavoidably  at 
.a  loss  for  adequate  expressions,  and  therefore  obliged  to 

*  All  the  old  editions  had  these  words  vel  licit  a  \  the  more  modern, 
not  knowing  what  to  make  of  them,  fairly  sunk  them,  Grono'Viiis 
takes  notice  of  the  fraud,  and  restores  them  to  their  place,  but  in  order 
finally  to  degrade  them  on  a  fair  hearing.  He  says  they  are  corrupt, 
and  should  be  read  Tel  jicta.  But  licit  a  is  the  genuine  word,  which 
this  Critic  would  have  seen,  had  he  apprehended  that  it  signified 
those  theological  fables  allowed  of  by  public  authority.  So  \h&t  fabulosa 
vel  licita  signify  cither  such  fabies  as  the  philosophers  themselves 
invented,  or  suck  as  they  borrowed  from  the  popular  belief. 

M  2  speak 


164  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

speak  figuratively,  that  is,  make  use  of  sensible  and 
material  images.  SED  si  QUID  DE  HIS  ASSIGXAUE 

CONAXTUB.,  QU.E  NOX  SERMONEM  TANTUMMODO,  SED 
COGITATIONEM  QUOQUE  HUMAN  AM  SUPERANT,  AD 
SIMILITUDINES  ET  EXEMPLA  CONFUGIUNT. 

When  Macrobius  had  said  this,  and  illustrated  the 
last  observation  by  an  example  from  Plato,  he  goes  on 
to  the  other  part  of  his  subject,  namely,  to  tell  us  how 
the  philosophers  managed  when  they  treated  of  the 
other  Gods  and  the  soul;  then  (he  says)  they  admitted  of 
the  fabulous ;  not  childishly,  or  to  please  a  wanton  ima 
gination,  but  because  they  knew  that  exposing  Nature, 
naked  as  she  was,  would  be  greatly  injurious  to  her. 
Who,  as  she  withdraws  herself  from  the  knowledge  of 
the  vulgar  by  her  various  covering  and  disguise  of  FORMS, 
so  it  is  her  pleasure  that  the  philosophers  should  handle 
her  secrets  in  fable  and  allegory. — "  De  Diis  autem,  ut 
"  dixi,  ceteris,  &  de  anima  non  frustra  se,  nee  ut  oblec- 
"  tent,  ad  fabulosa  convertunt ;  sed  quia  sciunt  inimicam 
"  esse  Naturae  apertarn  nudamque  expositionem  sui : 
"  quae  sicut  vulgaribus  hominurn  sensibus  intellectum  sui 
"  vario  rerum  TEGMIXE  OPERIMEXTOQUE  subtraxit; 
"  ita  a  prudentibus  arcana  sua  voluit  per  fabulosa  trac- 
"  tari." — Then  follow  the  rest  of  the  words,  which  should 
be  translated  thus :  So  the  mysteries  themselves  are  hid 
under  the  deceits  of  figurative  representations,  lest  the 
naked  truth  should  obtrude  itself  even  en  the  initiated. 
But  while  the  greatest  men,  with  wisdom  for  their 
guide,  are  conscious  of  the  true  secret',  the  rest  may  be 
well  content  with  such  representations  as  secure  the 
dignity  of  the  secret,  and  are  contrived  to  excite  their 
veneration.  Sic  IPSA  HYSTERIA  FIGURARUM  CUNI- 

CULIS  OPERIUNTUR,  NE  VEL  H^C  ADEPTIS  NUDA 
KEUUM  TALIUM  SE  NATURA  PR^EBEAT  :  SED  SUM  MA- 
TIBUS  TANTUM  VIRIS,  SAPIEXTIA  INTERPRETE,  VERI 
•ARCANI  CONSCI1S,  CONTENTI  SIXT  RELIQUI  AD  V£- 
NERATIONEM  FIGURIS  DEFEXDENT1BUS  A  VILITATE 

SECHETUM.  The  reader  now  sees  that  this  period,  and 
the  other,  beginning  with  Si  quid  de  his  assignare,  which 
our  Advocate  had  tacked  to  it,  are  so  far  from  belonging 
to  one  another,  that  the  first  describes  the  unavoidable 
condition  that  attends  the  speaking  truth ;  the  other  the 

advantage* 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  165 

advantages  that  may  be  reaped  from  lying.  But  as  ill 
as  he  understood  the  original,  his  own  bad  translation, 
methinks,  might  have  informed  him,  that  the  two  parts  of 
the  quotation  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  one  another, 
they  are  so  full  of  contradiction.  The  first  part  says,  the 
high  subjects  there  spoken  of  are  beyond  all  our  words, 
and  exceed  even  our  thoughts.  The  second  part  says  no 
such  matter,  the  wise  are  capable  of  receiving  them. 
For  the  rest,  they  must  do  as  they  can  ;  be  content  with, 
I  do  not  know  what,  an  awful  veneration,  §c.  But  more 
of  this  matter  presently. 

3.  For  I  have  not  yet  done  with  this  wondrous  Advocate 
of  old  Philosophy.  We  have  seen  how  he  has  acquitted 
himself  as  to  the  general  purport  of  the  quotation :  let  us 
now  see  "whether  he  be  equally  happy  in  the  sense  he  gives 
of  the  words  and  phrases. 

The  learned  reader  perceives,  that  the  words  last 
quoted,  Sic  ipsa  mysteria,  £$c.  are  an  illustration  and 
inforcement,  taken  from  the  practice  of  the  mysteries,  of 
the  foregoing  observation,  that  it  was  commendable  to  hide 
some  things  under  fables.  How  does  our  Advocate 
translate  Sic  ipsa  mysteria?  Thus,  FOR  THESE  THINGS 
WERE  AS  MYSTERIES.  So,  from  an  illustration  he  makes 
it  an  illation :  and  mysteria,  the  rites  so  called,  he  de 
grades  to  a  simple  secret.  Sic  FOR — IPSA  THESE 
THINGS — MYSTERIA  WERE  AS  MYSTERIES. — A  hope 
ful  scholar!  He  had  reason  to  upbraid  us  with  the 
memory  of  our  school-books,  [Pref.  p.  v.]  Well,  but  what 
are  these  things  that  are  so  like  mysteries?  Why,  even 
by  his  own  account,  abstract  ideas  expressed  in  metapho 
rical  terms.  According  to  this,  the  DICTIONARY  should 
be  the  most  mysterious  book  in  the  world :  and  so,  I 
suppose,  our  Free-thinker  found  it;  and  having  a  natural 
Aversion  to.  mysteries,  he  turned  himself  to  studies  oj 
quite  another  nature,  p.  viii. 

The  next  words,  Figurarum  cumculis  operhmtur,  he 
has  passed  over  untranslated,  and  with  good  reason. 
For  as  they  allude  to  the  shows  of  the  mysteries  repre 
sented  in  subterraneous  pla ces,  he  could  have  no  kind  of 
conception  of  them.  The  next — ne  vel  hcec  adept  is  nuda 
rerurn  talium  se  natura  prcebeat,  undergo  the  same 
peglect;  and  on  the  same  account.  He  knew  not  what 

M  3  to 


166  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

to  make  of  adept  is,  the  initiated ;  and  he  thought  too  it 
contradicted 

The  next — Sed  summatibus  tantum  viris,  sapient ia  in- 
terprete,  veri  arcani  consclis.  Here  he  breaks  silence, 
arid,  on  my  word,  to  the  purpose,  WHICH  THE  VISE 

ONLY  WERE  CAPABLE  OF  RECEIVING.  Sapientia  in 
ter 'prete,  the  wise  only  are  capable  of  receiving.  Not 
withstanding  the  difference  of  number,  it  is  plain  he 
thought  sapientia  interprcte  was  put  in  apposition  to 
summatibus  viris.  He  did  riot  see  the  construction  was 
summatibus  viris  veri  arcani  consciis,  sapientia  interprete, 
nor  that  the  sapientia  inter pres  alluded  to  the  hierophani 
of  the  mysteries,  who  explained  the  secret  to  the  most 
capable  of  the  initiated,  the  summatibus  viris ;  by  which 
Macrobius  meant  heroes,  princes,  legislators,  in  allusion 
to  their  old  practice,  of  seeking  initiation  into  the  greater 
mysteries*.  And  those  he  had  distinguished  from  the 
rest  of  the  initiated,  by  the  foregoing  words,  ne  vel  hctQ 
adept  is  nuda  rerum  talium  se  natura  pmbeat. 

The  concluding  words  are,  Contenti  sint  reliqui  ad 
yeneratlonem  jlguris  defendentibus  a  militate  secretum, 
which  he  translates,  but  that  others  should  be  content 

WITH   AN  AWFUL  VENERATION   FOR    THEM,    Under   the 

'veil  ofjigures  and  allegories,  LEST  THEY  SHOULD  BE 
JDESPISED.  What  is  meant  by  a  totir shippers  being 
content  with  an  awful  veneration,  I  do  not  understand  : 
much  less  his  being  content  with  an  awful  veneration, 
lest  the  th'ings  venerated  should  be  despised.  The  object 
worshipped  indeed  may  be  well  enough  said  to  be  content 
with  an  awful  veneration,  lest,~\i  it  should  be  unreason 
able,  and  expect  more,  it  might  come  to  be  despised. 
Bat,  as  our  profound  Translator  well  observes,  These 
things  are  as  mysteries,  and  so  we  will  leave  them. 
However,  the  learned  reader  sees  he  took  contcnti  sint 
reliqui  ad  venerationem  fignris,  to  be  the  same  as  con- 

"  tenti  sint  reliqui  veneratione  figurarum,  whereas  it  is 
equivalent  to  contcnti  sint  reliqui  jiguru  ad  venerationem 
excogitatis ;  and  should  be  translated  thus :  The  rest 
nunj  be  well  content  with  such  representations  as  secure 
tht  dignity  of  the  secret,  and  are  contrived  to  excite  their 
veneration.  What  must  we  think  of  our  Advocate? 
*  Divine  Legation,  You  II.  p.  97. 

Does 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  167 

Does  not  he  come  well  instructed  in  his  cause  ?  Which 
shall  we  admire  most ;  his  modesty,  his  learning,  or  his 
good  faith  ?  But  his  translations^  of  which  his  book  is 
almost  all  made  up,  abound  with  these  beauties ;  I  shall 
therefore  reserve  the  examination  of  tnem  for  a  work  by 
itself,  and  leave  him  at  present, 

With  all  his  blushing  honours  thick  uDon  him. 

o 

V.  Our  Advocate  goes  on  to  the  second  of  the  argu 
ments,  which,  in  his  apprehension,  aiFects  the  present 
question:  namely,  that  t lie  philosophers  he Id  some  funda 
mental  principles,  which  were  altogether  mcomlstmt  with 
the  doctrine  of  future  rewards  and  punishments.  Of 
these  he  tells  us,  and,  indeed,  tells  us  fairly,  that  the 
Jirst  was,  that  God  could  neither  be  angry  nor  hurt  any 
one.  The  second,  that  the  wit  I  was  a  discerped  part  of 
the  whole,  and  that  this  ichole  was  God,  into  whom  it 
was  again  to  be  resohed.  p.  47. 

These  he  undertakes  to  examine  in  their  order. 

From  the  first,  that  God  could  not  be  angry  nor  hurt 
any  one,  I  drew  this  conclusion,  that  they  could  not 
believe  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments. 
Which  I  endeavoured  to  support  from  a  passage  in 
'Tally  %  Offices  to  this  effect.  The  writer  is  commending 
Regulus  for  keeping  his  oath.  But  (says  he)  it  may  be 
objected,  what  is  there  in  an  oath?  The  violator  need 
not  fear  the, punishment  of  Heaven,  for  all  the  philoso 
phers  hold  that  God  cannot  be  angry  nor  hurt  any  one. 
To  this  Tully  replies,  and  owns  that  indeed  it  was  a 
consequence  of  the  general  opinion  of  God's  not  bci/ig 
angry,  that  the  perjured  man  had  nothing  to  fear  from 
the  divine  vengeance.  But  then  it  was  not  this  fear, 
which  was  indeed  nothing,  but  justice  and  good  faith 
which  made  the  real  sanction,  or  moral  obligation  of  an 
oath.  '•  Q-.iid  est  igitur,  dixerit  quis,  in  jurejurando? 
"  Num  iratum  timemus  Jovem  ?  At  hoc  quiuem  cowiiuthe 
"  est  omnium  philosophorum,  nuuquam  nee  irasci  Daim, 
"  necnocere — Haecquideai  ratio  non  rnagis  contra  Regu- 
"  him  quatn  contra  prune  j  usjurandurn  valet:  sed  in 
"  jurejurando  non  qui  rnetus,  sed  qme  vis  sit,  debet 
<£  intelligi.  Est  enim  jusjuranduin  affirmatio  reli^iosa. 
*'  Quod  autem  affirinate,  quasi  Deo  tegte?  promises,  id 

M  4  "  teneudum 


168  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

"  tenendum  est :  jam  enim  non  ad  iram  Deorum,  quae 
"  nulla  cst ;  sed  ad  justitiam  &  ad  fidem  pertinet*." 

i.  Now  what  says  our  Advocate  to  this?  Upon  the 
whole  of  this  authority  (he  says)  /  think  it  appears  that 
the  OBJECTOR  rightly  cited  an  opinion  of  the  philosophers, 
bat,  mistaking  the  true  meaning,  drew  a  wrong  conclusion 

from  it.  Tully,  NOT  TROUBLING  HIMSELF  TO  CONFUTE 
on  SET  HIM  RIGHT,  goes  on  with  his  purpose,  and  proves 
the  intrinsic  sacredness  and  obligation  of  an  oath,  without 
regarding  the  circumstances  of  hope  or  fear.  p.  49. 
What  an  idea  has  he  here  given  us  of  this  great  rea- 
soner !  Tully  thinks  an  objector  worth  taking  notice  of, 
and  yet  WILL  NOT  TROUBLE  HIMSELF  TO  CONFUTE 
HIM.  Without  doubt  our  Advocate  here  compared 
Tully  to  himself  for  reasoning ;  as  before  he  had  com 
pared  himself  to  Chief  Justice  Hale  for  Greek.  And 
because  lie  can  write  books  against  an  objector^  without 
troubling  himself  to  confute  him,  he  thought  Tuliy  might 
do  so  too.  But  the  best  of  the  story  is,  that  this  objector. 
proves  to  be  Tully 's  own  self;  Diver  it  quis,  a  man  might 

perhaps  object  (says  he).  And  sure  Tully  did  not  mistake, 
the  true  meaning  of  a  common  opinion.  And  as  for  a 
voluntary  slip,  it  was  not  his  way,  as  it  is  this  Author's, 
to  make  blunders,  and  pass  them  off  for  other  men's, 
with  a  dixerit  aliquis.  Bat  it  seems,  Tully  not  only 
mistook  the  true  meaning,  but  drew  a  wro:ng  conclusion 

from  it.  This  is  hard.  And,  harder  still,  he  had  not  the 
patience  to  stay  and  set  himself  right.  But  sure,  if  he, 
had  all  tills  leisure  to  discredit  his  own  judgment,  by 
inventing  wrong  meanings,  and  drawing  worse  conclu 
sions,  he  would  have  found  time  to  restore  himself  to 
his  reader's  opinion  by  confuting  them.  But  then,  whe 
ther  the  objection  was  Tully  $  or  another  man's,  what  a 
low  opinion  must  Tully  have,  in  the  mean  time,  of  the 
importance  of  &  future  state  to  society,  if,  in  a  Book  of 
Offices,  he  would  not  trouble  himself  to  confute  or  set  an 
objector  right,  \\hom  he  had  brought  in  with  a  mistaken 
argument  that  overturned  it?  There  is  indeed  a  times 
when  a  serious  writer  would  not  trouble  himself  to  con- 

Jute  or  set  a  wrangler  right.     And  it  is  such  an  one  as 

*  De  Offic. !.  3.  c,  28,  29.  t  See  his  Title-page. 

this, 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  169 

this,  where  the  perversity  is  so  great,  as  to  become  an 
insult  upon  every  reader's  understanding. 

2.  But  his  Translation  is  in  all  respects  as  curious  as 
his  Comment.  It  follows  in  these  words  :  But  some  one 
might  object  and  my,  that  Regulus  need  be  under  no  ap 
prehension  from  the  breach  of  his  oath,  of  his  being 
punished  by  the  Gods,  since  it  is  a  WELL-KNOWN  SAY 
ING  amongst  philosophers.  That  God  cannot  be  angry* 
Fully,  in  answer  to  this,  says,  that  this  might  be  a 
reason  not  only  against  Regulus,  but  against  all  oaths 
whatsoever ;  for  (says  he)  in  swearing  it  is  not  the  fear 
of  punishment,  but  the  EFFICACY  and  IMPORTANCE  of 
it,  which  is  to  be  regarded ';  for  an  oath  is  a  religious 
affirmation  made  in  the  presence  of  God,  and  as  such 
ought  to  be  solemnly  observed.  To  conclude  then,  it  is 
not  the  anger  of  the  Gods,  which  is  NOTHING  [IN  THE 
PRESENT  CASE]  hut  justice  and  good  faith  which  is  [IM 
MEDIATELY]  tO  be  RESPECTED,  pp.  48,  49. 

Hoc  guide m  COMMUNE  est  OMNIUM  philosophorum, 
gays  Tally.  It  is  a  WELL-KNOWN  SAYING  AMONGST  the 
philosophers,  says  his  Translator,  instead  of,  this  is  a  tenet 
'common  to  all  the  philosophers,  commune  dogma,  decretum. 
In  jurcjurando  (says  Tully)  non  qui  metus,  sed  qucK 
vis  sit  debet  intelligi.  In  swearing  (says  his  Translator) 
it  is  not  the  fear  of  punishment,  but  the  EFFICACY  and 
IMPORTANCE  of  it,  which  is  to  be  regarded.  The  pre 
tended  Objector  observing  that  the  people  were  chiefly 
influenced,  in  their  oaths,  by  the  fear  of  divine  punish-* 
ment,  argues  against  the  efficacy  of  oaths  in  this  manner. 
All  the  philosophers  (says  he)  hold  that  God  cannot  be 
angry,  therefore  he  cannot  punish ;  consequently  oaths 
will  have  no  efficacy,  or  there  will  be  nothing  in  an  oath. 
To  this  Tully  gives  a  plain  answer.  The  ejficacy  of  an 
path  (says  he)  is  not  to  be  measured  by  the  degree  of 
fear  that  attends  the  taking  it,  but  by  the  moral  obliga 
tion  of  keeping  it,  that  is,  by  its  proper  sanction.  In 

jurejurando  non  qui  met  us,  sed  qua  vis  sit  debet  intelligi. 
Literally,  in  swearing  it  ought  to  be  considered,  not  what 

fear  attends  it,  but  what  sanction  it  hath.  And  then 
shews,  this  sanction  to  be  good  faith.  All  here  is  close 
and  well  argued. — Let  us  now  hear  how  his  TVanslator 
makes  hiin  reason.  An  oath  (says  the  Objector)  is  of  no 

EFFICACY 


170  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

EFFICACY  [quid  cst  in  jttrejurando?]  because  fear  is  no 
more.  Oh,  replies  7  \dly,  it  is  not  fear,  but  the  EFFI 
CACY  and  IMPORTANCE  of  an  oath,  that  is  to  be  re 
garded.  Admirably  concluded.  And  had  Tully  reasoned 
thus,  I  should  have  believed  he  \&&  forgot  his  Greek  too, 
and  turned  himself  to  studies  of  quite  another  nature. 

But  the  flower  of  translations  is  the  following :  Tully; 
Jam  enim  non  ad  irarn  Diorum,  Q.UJIL  NULL  A  EST.  llis 
Translator ;  To  conclude  then,  it  is  not  the  anger  of  the 
Gods,  which  is  NOTHING  [IN  THE  PRESENT  CASE]  Qu& 
nulla  cst !  Here  he  believed  in  good  earnest  that  qua 
nulla  est  was  equivalent  to  quce  ni-iil  ad  rtm pertinci :  and 
so  it  may  b6,  for  aught  I  know,  in  his  Law-Latin,  but  in 
Cicero 's,  it  signifies  the  same  as  quce  Tana  $  commentitia 
est.  Tully;  sed  ad  justitiam  §  ad  jidem  PERTINET. 
His  Translator  ;  but  justice  and  good jaith  which  /^[IM 
MEDIATELY]  to  be  RESPECTED.  Pert'wct,  immediately 
to  be  respected,  lie  could  not  find  the  nominative  case 
to  his  verb,  and  so  took  pertinet  to  be  the  impersonal. 
But  another  time  let  him  remember  it  is  governed  of  ID. 
Jam  enim  \idquodpromiseris~]  non  ad  iram  Dcorum,  qutc 
nulla  est,  sed  ad  justitiam  &;  ad Jider.i  pertinet.  Literally 
thus,  For  now  what  you  hare  promised  relates  not  to 
the  anger  of  the  Gods,  which  is  indeed  no  anger,  but  to 
justice  and  good  fail  h.  This  concludes  the  argument 
very  logically.  But  our  Advocate  says,  justice  and  good 
faith  is  IMMEDIATELY  to  be  respected:  Which  vitiates 
the  whole  reasoning.  First,  as  these  words  do  not  imply 
the  sanction,  the  very  thing  Tully  is  here  fixing.  Secondly, 
as  they  do  imply  that  something  else  was  to  be  respected, 
the  very  thing  Tulhj  is  here  opposing. 

Is  not  this  an  able  interpreter  of  his  old  philosophers  ? 
Yet  the  poor  man  did  his  best;  and,  without  doubt, 
laboured  hard.  With  what  gravity  does  he  introduce  this 
subject !  From  the  first  [principle]  that  God  could  not  'he. 
angry  nor  hurt  any  one,  he  [Mr.  W.]  draws  a  conclusion, 
that  they  could  believe  no  future  state,  $c.  ichich  he 
endeavours  to  support  by  a  passage  in  Tully,  the  TRUE 
SENSE  of  tev///t7i,  when  CONSIDERED,  will  not,  as  I  ap 
prehend,  answer  Ids  purpose,  pp.  47,  48. 

VI.  But  he  will  still  go  on  :  To  sJtew  (says  he)  that  the 
-.  Ancients  did  not  draw  the  same  concluiionfrom  this  opinion 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

of  the  philosophers,  as  the  Objector  in  Tully  or  Mr.  War- 
burton,  it  appears  in  many  places  that  they  believed — 
What  ?  that  the  GODS  actually  punished  this  very  crime, 
and  that  men  incurred  their  anger  and  displeasure  by 
committing  it.  p.  50.  And  so  say  I  too.  Nay  more,  I 
shew  at  large  *  the  consistency  of  this  belief,  that  the 
Gods  punished,  with  that  other,  that  the  one  God  did  not 
And  yet  to  establish  this  important  point  he  brings  two 
witnesses,  Cornelius  Nepos  and  Xenophon. 

But,  as  if  conscious  of  the  impertinence,  he  talks  more 
to  the  purpose  in  what  follows.  Ami  that  Mr.  War- 
burton's  distinction  between  the  anger  of  demons  and  that 
of  the  Supreme  Being  may  have  no  place  here,  it  may  be 
necessary  to  shew  by  a  passage  or  two,  that,  as  to  t/ic 
effects,  the  same  is  asserted  of  the  SUPREME  GOD.  p.  52. 
This  is  saying  something.  But  now  to  his  evidence.  The 
first  he  produces  are  three  poets.  Plesiod  (says  he)  tells 
us,  that  he  who  speaks  the  truth  in  public,  will  be  re 
warded  by  all-seeing  Jove  ;  but  he  who  forswears  him 
self  is  irreparably  lost,  and  his  posterity  shall  come  to 
nothing,  but  the  generation  of  the  just  shall  flourish. 
And  Phocyiides,  Forswear  not  thyself  either  inadver 
tently  or  knowingly,  for  the  immortal  God  hateth  a  false, 
oath  ;  and  of  hers  lurce  spoke  to  the  same  purpose,  pp.  52, 
53,  for  which  he  quotes  4  Iliad.  167. 

1.  Let  us   attend  to  the   question.      It  is,   Whether 
the  Greek  philosophers  believed  the   One  Supreme  God 
punished  and  rewarded  ?    And  for  the  proof  of  the  affir 
mative,  he  brings  us  three  Greek  poets.     But  this  is  not 
the  worst : 

2.  Two  of  these  poets  do  not  so  much  as  speak  of  the 
Supreme  Being,  but  of  the  ialse  idol  Gods  of  the  people. 
Homer  and   Hesiod  expressly  call  the  God,  they  here 
speak  of  as  the  rewarder  and  punisher  of  true  and,  false 
swearers,  ZET2  KPONIAH2,  Jupiter  Saturnius.     Now 
it  will  be  news,  I  suppose,  to  this  writer,  that  Jupiter 
Saturnhis  was  not  the  One  Supreme  Being,  but  Jupiter 
the  Son  of  Saturn,  an  idol-deity,  though 'set  at  the  head 
of  the  college. 

The  other  Greek  poet  is,  if  possible,  still  less  to  his 
purpose.     For  he  happens  to  be  no  heathen  at  all ;    in- 
*  Divine  Legat.  Book  III.  §  4. 

deed 


172  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD, 

deed  not  so  honest  a  man :  but  a  false  Christian,  the 
disgrace  of  our  holy  religion,  who  would  put  himself  on 
the  world  for  old  Phocylides  the  Milesian,  contemporary 
with  Theognis.  But  the  imposture  hath  been  detected 
by  critics  of  the  first  order,  such  as  Joseph  Scaliger,  Ger. 
and  Is.  Vossius,  D.  Heuisius,  Huetius,  Reiskius,  Bar- 
thins,  Taubman,  &c.  To  the  abundant  arguments  they 
have  produced,  we  may  add  this  very  expression,  cited 
by  my  adversary,  "Fiu^xo*  rfuy«t  0£o?  a£co]^. 

3.  But  had  these  poets  been  philosophers,  and  their 
idol  Gods,  the  Supreme,  who,  unless  it  was  our  Advocate, 
would  not  have  seen  that,  in  popular  writings,  they  must 
needs  talk  popularly,  and  keep  an  esoteric  opinion,  so 
destructive  of  society,  to  themselves  ? 

But  he  comes  yet  closer  to  the  point. — And  PLATO 
says,  GOD  will  execute  vengeance  on  him,  who,  slight 
ing  the  awful  majesty  of  his  divine  power,  shall  at 
any  time  forswear  himself,  pp.  52,  53.  He  hath  given 
us  a  philosopher  at  last,  we  see  ;  but  to  understand  with 
what  judgment,  we  must  again  state  the  question. 

1.  Which  is,  whether   the    Greek    philosophers    BE 
LIEVED  that  the  Supreme  God  punished  and  rewarded. 
!Nqw   our  Advocate   hath   owned,    and,  what  is  more, 
hath  proved,  that  the  philosophers  had  a  twofold  doctrine,, 
an  internal  and   an   external ;    that  the  one   contained 
matter  of  belief,  the  other  of  utility.     I  have  proved  (to 
which  our  Advocate  hath  said  nothing)  that  the  philoso 
phers  divided  their  writings  into  two  classes,  the  exoteric 
and  esoteric  ;  and  that  this  very  Book  of  Plato,   intitled, 
Of  Laws,  from  whence  he  hath  taken  the  passage  above, 
\vas  of  the  exoteric  kind.     Yet  for  all  this,  he  can  with 
out  blushing,  or,  perhaps,  without  knowing  why  he  should 
blush,  quote  the  Book  of  Laws,  for  Plato's  real   senti 
ments,  in  contradiction  to  what  Tully  and  Lactantius  tell 
us  was  part  of  the  esoteric  doctrine  of  all  the  philoso 
phers.     The  impartial  reader  will  hardly  reflect  on  this, 
without  some  sort  of  pity  or  indignation.     But  what  will 
he  say  when  I  tell  him  that  this  j'allaci/,  with  others   as, 
gross,  that  have  been  and  shall  be  taken  notice  of  in  their 
place,  run  through  every  page  of  his  performance  ? 

2.  But  we  have  not  yet  done  with  this  quotation  from. 
Plato.     It  is  doomed  to  undergo  a  still  greater  disgrace. 

1 1  la 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  i?3 

In  an  evil  hour  did  our  Advocate  forget  his  Greek* 
unconscious  that  Fate  and  Free-thinking  had  decreed  to 
raise  him  up,  in  spite  of  nature,  for  the  preparer  of  the 
way  to  pure  Pagan  philosophy,  with  his 

—  Petite  hinc,  juvenescjue,  senesqiie, 
Finem  ammo  cert  urn  imsensque  viatica  canls  *. 

For  here  Serranus  hath  given  him  a  terrible  quid  pro  quo* 
which  he  hath  innocently  swallowed.  This  Translator 
makes  Plato  say  DEUS  ilium  odio  prosequitur,  qul  SA 
CROSANCT  A  m  v  r  N  i  N  u  M  i  N  i  s  auth  orltcite  neglect  a  fahum 
jur  amentum  dicit'\.  But  Plato  says  no  such  thing.  He 
speaks  of  the  GODS,  in  the  plural,  such  as  the  people 
worshipped.  The  whole  passage  is  in  these  words  :  Let 
no  man,  when  he  invokes  the  GODS  for  his  truth,  mix 
any  thing  of  falsehood,  fraud,  or  insincerity,  cither  in  his 
word  or  deed',  unless  he  chuscs  to  become  most  hateful  to 
the  Gods.  As  in  thejirst  place  is  he,  who,  without  any 
reverence  to  the  GODS,  swears  falsely  :  And  in  the  second 
place,  he,  who  lies  before  his  betters. 


€)EfIN,    pyre    Aoyy   pyrt    tgyy    vrpocfciiEv,    o   pr, 

\Diis  infensissimas,  says  Serranus  rightly  here] 


<T 


o  ov    ooxaf 

v    TWJ/ 


^lu'Wai.  Had  our  Advocate  had  the  least  taste  of  an 
tiquity,  he  might  have  seen,  from  the  concluding  period, 
with  what  spirit  the  whole  was  written.  With  no  other, 
sure,  than  to  instruct  the  people  in  their  devoirs  to  societv. 
A  likely  place  to  find  any  of  Plato's  esoteric  doctrines.  " 

But  if  one  considers  the  whole  evidence  together,  one 
would  wonder  how  it  could  ever  enter  seriously  into  the 
head  of  one,  whose  profession  (if  it  taught  him  any  tiling) 
taught  him  to  judge  of  the  nature  of  evidence,  that  poets 
writing  to  the  people,  and  speaking  their  language,  or  a 
poetical  philosopher  writing  a  popular  book  of  laws  to 
keep  them  in  order,  should  ever  talk  to  a  heathen  com 
monalty  of  the  only  One  God. 

VII.  But  he  is  wiser  in  what  follows  The  next 
authority  (says  he)  Mr.  Warburton  brings  to  strei  gthen 
his  conclusion  is  from  Lactantius,  which  hi  call*  an 

*  The  Motto  to  his  Title-page,        f  Plat.  917,  a.  Ed.  Serr. 


274  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

illustrious  instance ;  but  on  reading,  it  turns  out  so  low  and 
insipid,  THAT  IT  is  NOT  WORTH  CONSIDERING,  p.  53. 
Indeed,  so  short !  How  happy  had  it  been  for  him,  had 
he  passed  the  same  judgment  on  all  the  rest !  The  argu 
ment  from  Lactantius  stood  thus  :  That  eloquent  writer, 
in  defending  Christianity^  found  nothing  so  much  opposed 
the  doctrine  of  a  future  judgment •,  as  a  prevailing  prin 
ciple  common  to  all  the  philosophers,  that  God  could  not 
be  angry.  He  therefore  composed  his  discourse,  intitled, 
JDc  Ira  Dei,  to  combat  this  following  syllogism  : 

If  Cod  hath  no  affections  of  love  or  hatred,  fondness 
or  anger,  he  cannot  reward  or  punish. 

But  he  hath  no  affections,  ^T.—    -Therefore,  fyc. 

A  modern  advocate  of  religion  would  certainly  have 
denied  the  major,  but  that  was  a  principle  which  Lac- 
tantius  expressly  tells  us  was  received  by  all  parties.  He 
therefore  turns  his  whole  discourse  against  the  minor ; 
and  endeavours  to  prove  that  God  hath  these  affections. 
Nor  does  he  at  all  mince  the  matter.  Tor  he  tells  us 
there  are  in  God,  as  in  Man,  the  passions  of  love  and 
hatred :  And,  to  make  all  s.ure,  contends  for  God's  hav 
ing  an  human  form.  Nov.*  the  inference  I  drew  from  it 
was  this,  that,  as  Lactantius  was  admirably  well  skilled 
in  all  Pagan  philosophy,  he  could  not  mistake  a  principle 
which  all  the  philosophers  held,  nor  a  consequence  which 
they  all  drew  from  it.  The  principle  was,  that  the  Su 
preme  Gad  had  no  affections ;  and  the  consequence,  that 
he  could  neither  reward  nor  punish.  Therefore  this 
principle  and  this  consequence  were  held  by  ALL,  the 
point  to  be  proved.  It  was  on  this  account,  that  I  called 
the  case  of  Lactantius  an  illustrious  one.  Our  Advocate 
says  'tis  low  and  insipid,  and  not  worth  considering.  Utri 
creditis,  quirites  ? 

But  I  commended  him  too  soon.  He  won't  let  the 
matter  rest  when  'tis  well :  See  then  what  comes  of  it. 

He  tells  the  reader,  foot  I  myself  say  Lactantius  knew 
lit  fie  of  Christianity.  Egregious  Advocate!  must  not 
this  be  the  very  cause  (if  there  were  any  cause  at  all)  of 
those  philosophic  prejudices,  which  so  fatally  disposed 
him  to  attack  the  minor  rather  than  the  major? — That 
fie  Jell  into  many  errors.  Could  it  be  otherwise  while 
he  opposed  the  minor  ?  —That  his  Treatise  was  obscure. 

Must 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  175 

Must  it  not  needs  be  so,    when  his  opposition  to  the 
minor  led  him  to  maintain,  that  there  is  in  God,  as  iu 
Man,  the  passions  of  love  and  hatred? — And  strongly 
contended  that  God  had  a  human  form.     Was  not  this 
extravagance  a  full  proof  that  the  connexion  between  the 
principle  (of  God's  having  no  passions)  and   the  conse 
quence  (that  he  could  neither  punish  nor  reward)  was  so 
universally  held,    that  he   could   find   no  way  to  break 
through  ;  but  was  forced  to  wade  it,  by  asserting  God 
had  passions  ?  For  which  to  provide  a  proper  suojectj 
he  thought  fit  to  give  him  a  human  form  likewise. — All 
then  (says  our  Advocate)  that  appears  from,  this  illus 
trious  instance  is,  that  Lactantius  grossly  mistook  thisjim 
sentiment  of  the  philosophers.     Does  he  know  whom  he 
talks  of?    Why,   this  Lactantius  was  a  philosopher  him 
self;  not  like  that  canting  tribe  of  dunces,  Porphyry, 
{famblichus,  &c.  who  first  brought  their  fanaticism  into 
the  schools  of  philosophy,  which  so  soon  after,  and  so 
fatally,  infected  the  church  of  Christ ;  but  one  whom 
the  greatest  monarch  of  the  world  made  choice  of  for  the 
governor  of  his  Son.     He  was  a  lawyer  too,  and  his 
critics  say,  a  happy  emulator  of  the  eloquence  of  Cicero. 
Yet  our  Advocate  believes  in  good  earnest,  \h&t  he  grossly 
mistook  this  jine  sentiment  of  the  philosophers.     Alas  ! 
What  he  mistook  were  the  fine  sentiments  of  Christianity ', 
and  this  in  too  warm  a  zeal  for  overturning  those  of 
philosophy,  which  he  understood  but  too  well. — And  in 
combating  with  it  fell  into  a  puddle  of  foul  absurdities. 
Who  told  him  so  ?     Doctors  differ.     St  Jerom  calls  this 
tract  De  Ira  Dei,  pulcherrimum  opus.     Which  had  our 
Advocate  known,  without  doubt,  he  had  opposed  the 
judgment  of  a  Father  of  the  church  to  mine.    For,  to  say 
the  truth,  I  arn  answerable  for  all  the  freedoms  he  here 
takes  with  Lactantius',  what  he  knew  of  the  De  Ira  Dei 
being  only  from    The  Divine  Legation.     But  I  produce 
the  authority  of  Jerom,  who  differs  so  much  from  my 
sentiments  of  the  Tract,  to  shew  the  reader  that  Lac 
tantius  s  manner  of  supporting  a  future  judgment  against 
the  philosophers,  was  the  approved  defence  of  the  learned 
Christians  of  that  time.     Consequently  Lactantiu    did 
not  grossly  mistake  this  FINE  sentiment  of  the  ph  os.- 
fhers.  pp,  53,  54. 

VIII.  tut 


i?6  REMARKS  ON  TlLLARD. 

VIII.  But  this  principle  seems  fated  to  disgrace  him  ; 
so  that  he  can't  for  his  life  let  it  alone.  He  goes  oil 
therefore  in  these  words  :  To  clear  this  matter  more  fully, 
it  may  now  be  proper  to  consider  the  PRINCIPLE  itself, 
which,  as  Mr.  Warburton  says,  greatly  embarrassed 
antiquity ;  because  the  ancients,  says  he,  could  not  dis* 
tinguish  between  human  passions  and  the  divine  attributes 
of  justice  and  goodness,  p.  393*.  But  I  hope  to  make  it 
appear,  that  the  ancients  were  not  at  all  embarrassed ;  and 
that  they  distinguished  in  this  particular,  just  in  the 
same  manner  as  we  do  now.  p.  54. 

He  tells  the  reader,  I  say  the  PRINCIPLE  greatly 
embarrassed  antiquity,  and  refers  to  page  393*.  Let  the 
reader  then  hear  me  speak.  "  We  see  Tully  owns  the 
"  consequence  of  this  univeral  principle. — A  modern 
"  reader,  full  of  the  philosophic  ideas  of  these  late  ages, 
"will  be  surprised,  perhaps,  to  be  told,  THAT  THIS 

"  CONSEQUENCE  GREATLY  EMBARRASSED    ANTIQUITY; 

"•  when  he  can  so  easily  evade  it,  by  distinguishing  be- 
cc  tween  human  passions  and  the  divine  attributes  of 
"  justice  and  goodness,  on  which  alone  the  doctrine  of  a 
"  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments  is  invincibly 
"  established.  But  the  ancients  had  no  such  precise 
"  ideas  of  the  divine  nature.  They  knew  riot  how  to 
"  sever  anger  from  its  justice,  nor  fondness  from  its  good- 
"  ness." — He  charges  me  with  saying,  the  PRINCIPLE 
greatly  embarrassed  antiquity :  and  1  say  the  CONSE 
QUENCE  from  that  principle  greatly  embarrassed  an 
tiquity.  What  are  we  to  think  of  this  ?  That  it  was  done 
with  design  ?  Alas !  No.  The  poor  man  knew  no  dif 
ference  between  principles  and  consequences,  premisses 
and  conclusions.  Or  if  he  had  any  meaning,  it  was  to 
shew  his  contempt  of  these,  and  all  other  my  nice  dis 
tinctions,  divisions,  and  subdivisions,  which,  he  tells  us, 
he  passes  over  as  needless  curiosities,  p.  3. 

But  his  next  attendant  effort  is  still  more  surprising. 
For  he  rises  in  his  blunders,  like  Homers  battles  in  their 
terror.  I  had  said,  the  ancients  were  embarrassed.  He 
will  prove  they  were  not  at  all  embarrassed,  without  so 
much  as  knowing  what  ancients  must  needs  be  meant. 
Now  the  intelligent  reader  sees  they  are  the  ancient 
9  Div.  Leg.  Vol.  III.  pp.  129,  130.  S 

CHRISTIAN, 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  17? 

CHRISTIAN,  not  Pagan  writers,  for  this  plain  reason, 
That,  though  I  hold  neither  Christian  nor  Pagan  writers 
could  distinguish  between  human  passions  aid  the  divine 
attributes,  yet  none  but  Christian  \vrkrrs  could  be 
embarrassed  with  the  consequence  of  God's  not  being 
angry  (which  consequence  was,  that  therefore  he  could 
not  punish)  because  none  but  Christians  (according  to 
my  assertion)  held  that  he  could  punish.  Now  from 
their  holding,  as  they  did  at  first,  with  the  philosophers, 
that  God  could  not  be  angry,  and  with  the  founders  of 
their  faith,  that  he  would  punish,  arose  ail  that  E  MB  AR 
RAS  I  took  notice  of;  and  which  of  course  I  must  suppose 
the  Pagans  free  from,  by  their  not  holdup  *]^e  two 
supposed  contrary  propositions.  Our  Advocate,  who 
had  not  the  least  conception  of  all  this,  will  yet  venture 
to  contradict  me ;  and  taking  it  for  granted,  as  he  dc^s 
every  thing  he  can't  prove,  that  I  meant  PAGAN  antiquity 
lay  under  this  embarras,  he  brings  a  number  of  passages 
from  Pagan  philosophers,  to  confute  rny  assertion.  Thus 
all  he  proves,  if  he  should  chance  to  prove  any  thing, 
being  nothing  to  the  purpose,  I  might  here  fairly  leave 
him  to  himself. 

But  as  Pagan  antiquity,  though  it  was  not  embar 
rassed  like  the  Christian.,  yet  was  not  at  all  more  exact 
in  its  ideas  of  the  divine  attributes,  I  will  permit  our 
Advocate,  for  once,  to  suppose,  that  I  had  said,  that  the 
ancient  philosophers  were  embarrassed,  and  could  not 
distinguish  between  human  passions  and  the  divine  at 
tributes:  Let  us  see  then  what  he  will  make  of  it.  But 
as  I  restore  him  his  arms,  and  instruct  him  how  to  use 
them,  it  may  be  allowed  me  to  remind  my  reader, 

1.  That  when  I  say  they  could  not  distinguish  between 
human  passions  and  the  divine  attributes.,  I  mean  the 
attributes  of  thejirst  Cause  of  all  things. 
'  2.  When  I  say  they  could  not  distinguish,  I  mean 
distinguish  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  leave  room  for  the 
doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments ; 
all  other  distinctions  being  out  of  the  question. 

Well  then,  to  prove  that  Antiquity  was  not  embarrassed, 
how  does  this  mighty  champion  of  old  philosophy  set 
out?  Why,  first,  he  proves  that  he  himself  is  not  embar- 

Voi,.  XL  N  ramd. 


178  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

rassed.  Secondly,  that  those  who  read  the  Scriptures 
cannot  be  embarrassed.  But  tins'  is  only  to  feel  his 
own  strength,  and  make  the  flourish  of  his  arms.  He 
soon  comes  to  himself,  and  then  says,  But  that  the 
reader  may  see  how  rightly  the  philosophers  could  dis 
tinguish  between  human  passions  and  the  divine  attri- 
bittes,  I  shall  now  lay  before  him  some  passages,  in  which 
it  is  said  God  is  not  subject  to  passion,  or  that  he  is  void 
of  anger,  and  can  hurt  none;  and  others,  where  he  is 
said  to  be  angry,  and  to  punish  sinners  for  their  crimes ; 
by  which  every  one  may  the  better  judge,  whether  the 
ancients  were  not  exactly  of  the  same  opinion  as  himself ^ 
and  did  not  speak  as  Christians  now  do,  sometimes  with 
regard  to  the  ineffable  and  absolute  rectitude  of  an  in- 
jinitely  perfect  Being,  and  sometimes  with  respect  to  the 
relation  he  bears  to  its  his  finite  and  imperfect  creatures. 
pp.  54 — ^56.  This  is  indeed  to  the  point. 

Andjirst,  says  he,  /  readily  agree  with  Mr.  Warbur- 
ton,  that  it  was  the  opinion  of  all  the  philosophers,  that 
God  could  not  be  angry,  nor  hurt  any  one.  p.  56.     And 
though  we  agree  in  this,  yet  he  will  bring  several  wit 
nesses  to  prove  it.     This  is  always  his  way,  when  he  has 
so  safe  ground  to  go  upon.     Thus  he  proved  the  double 
doctrine  of  the   philosophers,  and   the  single  object  of 
that  double  doctrine.     And  on  such  occasions,  I  must 
acquaint  the  reader,   he  is  a  most  unmerciful  prover. 
But  as  he  can  never  forbear  mixing  and  confounding  the 
several  parts  of  his  subject,  the  last  of  his  testimonies, 
to  prove  God  cannot  be  angry,  being  taken  from  Seneca, 
he  is  drawn  to  another  question  before  his  time.     But 
order,  method,  and  logic,  we  know,  are  nothing  with  this 
writer.     However,    a  good    thing  never  comes    amiss. 
What,  then,  says  Seneca?  That  that  man  is  mistaken^ 
•who  supposes  the  Gods  can  hurt  any   one ;  for  they 
neither  can  do  wrong,  nor  suffer  it,  both  of  which  betoken 
frailty.     But  Seneca  immediately  after  says,  that  the. 
'GODS  do  exact  punishment,  and  chastise  some  for  their 
good.     Therefore,  Seneca  must  either  contradict  hin. 
or  speak  of  the  same  beings  in  different  respects ;  and 
indeed  these  two  last  passages  of  Seneca,  one  of  which  is 
quoted  by  Mr.  V»rarburton?  TO  PIU>VE  that  the  Gods  can 

hurt 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  179 

hurt  none,  seem  to  have  no  reference  to  their  just  anger 
against  sinners,  but  to  such  hurt  or  injury  as  arises  from 
wrong  or  injustice,  p.  58. 

1.  This  whole  remark  is  nothing  to  the  purpose.  Seneca 
here  means  the  GODS  of  Paganism,  not  thejirst  Cause  of 
all  things,  where  he  talks  of  their  punishing  and  chastising. 
Now  the  first  Cause  is  the  subject  of  our  question. 

2.  But  of  these  two  passages,  one  is  quoted  by  me  (he 
says)  TO  PROVE  that  the  Gods  can  hurt  none. — The 
passage  is  in  vol.    iii.  page  145,  of  this  Edition.     My 
words  are  these,  A  benevolence  too,  that  went  not  from 
the  will,  but  the  essence  of  the   Supreme  Being',   SO 
Seneca  informs  us,  Qu&  causa  est  Diis,  fyc.    Here  again 
his  old  luck  follows  him.  I  quoted  it,  to  shew  what  kind 
of  benevolence  they  gave  to  God :  he  says,  I  quoted  it  to 
prove  the  Gods  can  hurt  none. 

Having  thus  notably  supported  his  agreement  with 
me,  that  it  was  the  opinion  of  the  philosophers  that  God 
could  not  be  angry  nor  hurt  any  one ;  he  proceeds,  But 
that  THEY  are  angry,  so  as  to  punish  the  wicked  for 
their  crimes,  might  be  proved  by  a  multitude  of  testi 
monies.  Without  doubt  it  might.  But  what  then  ?  I 
require  him  to  shew,  that  the  philosophers  believed  the 
one  God  could  be  angry  and  punish ;  and  he  says,  they 
believed  their  false  Gods  could.  And  so  said  I,  and 
proved  it  likewise.  Yet  he  brings  witness  upon  witness, 
poets  upon  philosophers,  to  shew  they  thought  THE  GODS 
could  be  angry  and  punish :  and  then  goes  on  thus:  By 
all  which  it  manifestly  appears,  that  when  the  ancients 
said,  GOD  could  not  be  angry,  they  meant,  &c.  pp.  58—60. 
Was  there  ever  such  a  reasoner  ?  He  will  prove  what 
the  ancients  thought  of  their  false  GODS,  a  thing  nobody 
asked ;  and  from  thence  conclude,  what  they  thought 
of  the  SUPREME,  a  thing  nobody  will  believe. 

But  lest  the  reader  should  suspect,  as  he  has  little 
reason,  that  this  was  only  a  blunder  in  words ;  and  that 
though  our  Advocate  promised  to  shew  by  quotations, 
what  was  nothing  to  the  purpose,  yet  the  quotations 
themselves  might  haply  inform  us  of  what  was ;  I  shall 
run  through  his  passages. 

The  two  first  (p.  59.)  are  from  Plato's  Book  of  Laws 9 
a  writing  of  the  exoteric  kind,  in  wfiich  the  philosopher 

K  3  speaks 


iSo  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

speaks  to  the  people;  and  consequently  must  need* 
speak  of  those  Gods  they  were  acquainted  with.  In  one 
of  the  passages  he  actually  uses  the  plural,  in  the  other 
the  singular,  used  perpetually,  in  the  writings  of  the 
ancients,  for  the  plural:  Sometimes  as  the  peculiar  tute 
lary  God  of  the  people  was  meant;  sometimes  as  it  was 
Jupiter  the  first  of  the  class;  but  most  frequently  as  it 
was  a  common  figure  of  speech  for  a  Greek  republican 
to  say  the  God  or  the  Magistrate,  when  there  were  a 
hundred  of  each.  But  what  will  surprise  our  Advocate 
(who  appears  not  to  have  received  instruction  on  this 
matter)  they  sometimes,  though  very  rarely,  used  the 
plural  for  the  singular.  As  Seneca,  in  the  place  that 
came  in  question  just  above,  Qiitf  causa  est  Diis,  &c.  arid 
Sallust,  in  another,  that  will  come  in  question  below. 
A  vlittle  discernment  is  sufficient  to  take  them  right,  in 
either  of  these  conversions.  NBut  this  is  more,  it  seems, 
than  we  are  to  expect  of  our  Advocate,  who  puzzling 
on,  between  his  true  and  false  Gods,  hangs,  like  a  false 
teacher  as  he  is,  between  heaven  and  earth,  in  the  fool's 
paradise  of  Pagan  philosophy. 

The  other  two  passages  he  brings  (p.  59.)  are  from  a 
spurious  thing  given  to  Cicero.  This  was  a  pleasant 
mistake.  He  had  seen  me  quote  Tul/y  de  Consolatione> 
twice,  and  therefore  thought  he  might  safely  do  the  same. 
But  my  two  passages  were  from  the  genuine  fragments  of 
that  lost  book ;  his  two,  by  the  malice  of  his  old  luck, 
from  that  forgery  of  Sigonius,  intitled,  De  Consolatione, 
and  fathered  upon  Tully :  but  it  could  never  get  a  god 
father  till  our  Advocate  became  its  sponsor.  Cicero  (says 
he)  says  that  a  man  by  his  wickedness  becomes  an  enemy 
and  hated  of  God.  And  for  this  decisive  saying,  Cic.  de 
ConsoL  is  quoted. 

He  goes  on,  But  we  need  not  question  the  philosophers, 
when  the  poets  say  the  same,  p.  60.  Nay,  it  must  be 
owned  they're  all  in  a  story.  And  how  should  they  chuse, 
when  prompted  by  their  false  Gods>  in  whose  favour  they 
are  speaking  ? 

At  length,  however,  as  if  even  sensible  of  the  imper^ 
tinence  of  all  he  had  been  saying,  he  goes  on  thus  :  But 
not  to  let  this  matter  rest  wholly  upon  CONCLUSIONS, 
though  never  so  well  grounded, — lie  means  inferences. 

You 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  181 

You  must  excuse  him.  If  he  be  there,  or  thereabouts, 
'tis  enough  for  a  man  so  averse  to  the  nicety  of  distinction. 
Well,  not  to  let  it  rest  then  (though  I  suspect  it  had 
been  the  wiser  course,  as  I  am  so  well  acquainted  with 
his  way  of  mending  matters)  What  then  ?  Why,  he  will 
further  shew  what  constructions  they  put  upon  such 
expressions,  by  one  who  has  wrote  a  whole  chapter  upon 
this  question,  "  In  what  sense  can  the  Gods,  who  are 
"immutable,  be  said  to  be  either  angry  or  appeased?" 
In  which  he  tells  us,  <l  that  God  cannot,  properly  speak- 
"  ing,  be  said  to  rejoice,  for  then  he  must  sometimes  be 
"  affected  with  sorrow ;  nor  to  be  angry,  since  anger  is 
"  a  motion  of  the  mind',  nor  to  be  pleased  with  gifts,  for 
"  that  would  be  to  be  overcome  with  pleasures,  fyc.;  but 
"  while  we  are  good,  we  are  united  to  the  Gods  by  simili- 
"  tude,  and  when  wicked,  separated  for  our  unlikeness: 
"  Not  that  they  are  really  angry,  but  thai  our  offences 
"  hinder  the  light  of  their  goodness  from  shining  upon  us ; 
"  wherefore  it  is  the  same  thing  to  say,  God  hateth,  or 
"  is  angry  with  sinners,  as  to  say  the  mn  is  hid  from  the 
"  eyes  of  those  who  are  blind!'  pp.  62,  63.  These  are  the 
words  of  Sallust  the  philosopher.  To  which  I  answer, 

l.  That  this  Sallust  is  no  legal  evidence.  I  have 
expressly  excepted  against  him  and  all  his  fellows,  all 
that  came  so  long  after  the  times  in  question ;  which  I 
confine  to  the  period  before  Christ.  The  rising  of  the 
Gospel,  I  confess,  again  and  again,  gave  such  light  to  the 
philosophers,  that  they  refined  all  their  doctrines  by  its 
splendor,  and  then,  like  their  mimic  brethren  of  the 
present  age,  ungratefully  abused  their  benefactors.  These 
are  my  words  in  one  place  of  my  book  ;  "Such  was  the 
"  general  doctrine  on  this  point,  before  the  coming  of 
"  Christianity.  But  then  those  philosophers  who  held 
"  out  against  its  truth,  after  some  time,  new-modelled 
:c  both  their  philosophy  and  religion :  making  their  phi- 
"  losophy  more  religious,  and  their  religion  more  philo- 
"  sophical. — So,  amongst  the  many  improvements  of  Pa- 
"  ganism,  the  softening  this  doctrine  was  one. — And  it 
"  is  remarkable,  that  then,  and  not  till  then,  the  philoso* 
"  phers  began  realty  to  believe  the  doctrine  of  a  future 
"  state  of  rewards  and  punishments*"  What  now  must; 
*  i)iv.  Leg.  Book  III.  §  4. 

N  3  WS 


i8i2  REMARKS  ON  TILLA&D. 

we  think  of  our  Advocate  ?  Was  there  ever  any  thing 
so  shameless  ?  Yet  this  is  one  of  his  hackney  fallacies, 
that  runs  on  all  his  errands. 

2.  But  as  our  Advocate  is  turned  solicitor,  and,  with 
out  doubt,  has  been  at  much  pains  in  finding  out  this 
witness,  we  will  hear  him.  And  if  he  should'chance  to 
prove  what  I  affirm,  and  what  my  adversary  denies,  it 
would  be  but  the  common  case  of  evidence  picked  up  at 
a  venture,  to  support  a  bad  cause.  To  keep  him  no 
longer  in  suspense,  I  must  here  let  him  know,  that,  had 
I  searched  all  antiquity,  I  could  not  have  found  a  passage 
more  to  my  purpose.  Such  is  his  old  luck  at  quoting. 

This  Salhist  having  put  together  some  common-place 
stuff  of  the  gods  and  the  world,  in  his  fourteenth  chap 
ter  proposes  to  speak  to  this  question,  How  the  immu 
table  gods  may  be  said  to  be  angry  and  appeased.  Uus  of 

€>fo)  JK.IJ  {AfJft&xAAojtAit'Oi,  cpy/^WG&t  xj  StpoiTrtvssQui  Xfyovjat. 
He  says  in  the  first  place,  that  God  has  no  human 
passions,  he  neither  rejoices,  is  angry,  nor  appeased  with 
gifts,  »  2£**jp£*  ®«o? — »<^  ogyi^slxi — ao*£  ^wfoi;  StyflHTfUsJai. 
So  far  doubtless  is  agreeable  to  truth.  But  how  then  ? 
Why  that  the  Cods  are  eternally  beneficent,  or,  as  Seneca 
had  said,  Causa  Diis  benefaciendi  NATURA,  and  beneji- 
cent  only,  but  never  hurtful,  ix«*Vo*  p\v  ttyafot'rt  tlw  AEI, 
xj  wpfAscn  povov'  j3Aa?rl8a-*  SI  sMwoIs.  Thus  having  avoided 
one  extreme,  he  falls  into  another,  and  supposeth  it  blind 
nature  and  not  will  that  determines  God's  beneficence. 
The  inference  from  this  is,  that  the  rewards  and  punish 
ments  of  heaven  are  the  natural  and  necessary  effects  of 
actions ;  not  positive,  arbitrary  consequences,  or  the 
designation  of  will.  And  so  our  philosopher  maintains. 
For  now  the  difficulty  being,  that  if  Nature  be  the  cause 
of  the  beneficence  of  the  Godhead,  how  can  Providence 
bestow  good  on  the  virtuous  man,  and  evil  on  the  wicked  ? 
Our  Sophist  resolves  it  thus  :  While  we  are  good,  we  are 

joined  by  similitude  of  nature  to  the  Gods ;  and  when 
evil,  separated  by  dissimilitude — They  become  our  enemies, 
not  because  they  arc  angry  at  us,  but  because  our  crimes 
hinder  the  Gods  from  shining  on  us — wherefore  it 
would  be  the  same  thing  to  say,  that  God  is  turned  away 

from  the  evil,  as  to  say,  the  SUN  is  HID  FROM  A  BLIND 
MAN. 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  183 


ax 

—  w'rf  opoiov  rov  @foi/  Asyni/  ra?  xaxsf  uiri 
HAION  TO??  Ir«f»i/Asvoi?  TWV  o\J/£wi/  x^w?r]g(r9at.  All 
apt  comparison,  and  very  expressive  of  the  case  ;  where 
the  influence  of  the  Deity  is  supposed  to  be  natural,  like 
the  sun  s,  and  consequently  all  reward  and  punishment, 
HOI  the  moral,  but  the  necessary  issue  of  things.  A  Pla 
tonic  principle  entirely  subversive  of  the  proper  doc 
trine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  as 
believed  every  where  by  the  people,  and  taught  by  the 
Christian  religion.  But  this  matter  I  had  explained  at 
large  in  the  book*  he  pretends  to  write  against.  — 
The  Pagans  then,  we  find,  in  taking  away  human  pas 
sions  from  God,  left  him  nothing  but  an  essential  excel 
lence,  that  went  not  from  his  will,  but  his  nature  only, 
and  consequently  was  destitute  of  morality.  This  was 
one  extreme.  The  primitive  Christians,  as  Lactantius, 
seeing  clearly  that  the  Platonic  notion  of  God  overturned 
&  future,  judgment,  and  not  seeing  that  medium  which 
their  masters  in  science,  the  philosophers,  had  missed  of, 
maintained  that  God  had  human  passions.  And  this  was 
the  other  extreme.  And  whence,  I  pray,  did  both  arise, 
but  from  neither's'  being  able  to  distinguish  between  human 
passions  aud  THE  DIVINE  ATTRIBUTES  OF  JUSTICE  AND 
GOODNESS,  the  true  medium  between  human  passions 
and  a  blind  excellence  of  nature?  Did  not  I  guess  right 
when  I  said,  if  he  would  not  let  the  matter  rest,  he  would 
soon  make  it  worse?  Yet  hear  how  triumphantly  he 
goes  off;  unconscious  of  all  the  fine  work  he  has  been 
making.  And  now  I  may  venture  to  affirm  (says  he) 
that  no  one  can  reasonably  imagine  this  opinion  of  the 
philosophers,  that  God  cannot  be  angry,  fyc.  could  be  any 
the  least  obstacle  to  their  believing  a  future  state  of 
rewards  and  punishments,  p.  63.  I,  for  my  part,  will 
only  venture  to  affirm  that  the  dispute  between  us  (if 
that  may  be  called  a  dispute  where  there  is  no  contra 
diction)  stands  thus  :  I  had  said,  The  ancients  could  not 
distingaisli  between  human  passions  and  the  divine  attri 
butes  of  justice  and  goodness  in  the  FIRST  CAUSE  of  all 
things  :  and  he  has  proved  they  could  distinguish  between 

*  Div.  Leg.  Book  III.  sec,  2.  &  seqq, 

N  4 


1 84  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

just  and  unjust  passions  in  their  IDOLATROUS  GODS.  I 
had  said,  they  could  not  so  distinguish  as  to  leave  any 
foundation  J  or  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards 
and  punishments :  and  he  has  proved  that  I  said  true,  by 
one  of  his  ovvn  witnesses,  Sallusi  the  philosopher.  But, 
what  the  reader  can  reasonably  imagine,  upon  this  view 
of  the  evidence,  as  I  would  not  pretend  to  direct  his 
judgment,  1  will  not  venture  to  affirm. 

IX.  I  now  come  to  the  next  principle  (says  our  Advo 
cate)  which  Mr.  Warburton  lays  down  as  repugnant  to 
the  belief  of  a  future,  state,  fyc.  which  is,  "  That  the 
"  generality  of  the  philosophers  held  the  soul  to  be  a  dis- 
"  cerped  part  of  a  whole,  and  this  whole  was  God,  into 
0  whom  it  was  again  to  be  resolved."  BUT  HERE  HE 
BEGINS;  AS  IN  OTHER  PLACES,  TO  EXPRESS  HIS  FEARS, 
"  that  the  reader  will  suspect  (as  I  am  apt  to  think  he 
"  will)  these  kind  of  phrases  are  highly  figurative  ex- 
"  pressions,  and  not  to  be  measured  by  the  severe  standard 
*(  of  metaphysical  propriety"  and  therefore  he  desires 
the  reader  to  take  notice  of  another  consequence  j'rom 
this  principle,  which  is,  that  the  soul  was  eternal  a  parte 
ante,  as  well  as  a  parte  post ;  and  this,  as^  he  says,  was 
universally  held  by  antiquity,  though  he  attempts  to  bring 
but  one  authority  to  prove  it,  which  he  says  is  above 
exception ;  and  therefore  I  shall  transcribe  it  out  of  his 
own  hook,  as  he  quotes  it  from  Cudworth,  that  the  reader 
may  the  better  judge  of  its  validity.  "  It  is  a  thing  very 
"  well  known  (says  the  great  Cudworth)  that  according 
"  to  the  seme  of  philosophers,  these  two  things  were 
"  always  included  together,  in  that  om  opinion  of  the 
*'  soufs  immortality r,  namely,  its  pr<z~evistcnce  as  well  as 
"  its  post-existence-,  neither  was  there  ever  any  of  the 
"  ancients  before  Christianity,  that  held  the  soul s  future 
"  permanency  after  death,  who  did  not  likewise  assert  its 
"  pr<£-existence  ;  they  clearly  perceiving,  that  if  it  was 
"  once  granted  that  the  soul  was  generated,  it  could  never 
"  be  proved  but  that  it  might  also  be  corrupted:  and 
"  therefore  the  assert  ers  of  the  soul's  immortality  com- 
"  monly  began  here;  Jirst  to  prove  its  prae-existcnce" 
8$c.  pp.  64,  65. 

Here  (says  he)  he  begins,   as  in  other  places,  to  ex 
press  his  FEARS.     This  is  the  second  time  he  has  told  me 

of 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  185 

of  my  fears.  And  without  doubt  he  took  me  in  good 
earnest  for  some  very  fearful  animal,  or  he  would  never 
have  ventured  so  wantonly  to  insult  me.  But  the  reader 
perhaps  may  be  curious  to  know  how  that  Writer  ex 
presses  his  fears  of  his  own  arguments,  who  has  been 
represented  by  the  Bigots  of  the  opposite  party,  as  de 
spising  all  other  men's.  The  fearful  passage  is  in  these 
words  :  "  And  that  the  reader  may  not  suspect  these 
"  kind  of  phrases,  as  that  the  soul  is  part  of  God;  dis- 
"  cerpedfrom  him;  of  his  nature  ;  which  perpetually 
"  occur  in  the  writings  of  the  Ancients,  to  be  only  highly 
"figurative  expressions,  and  not  to  be  measured  by  the 
"  exact  standard  of  metaphysical  propriety  ;  he  is  desired 
"  to  lake  notice  of  one  consequence  drawn  from  this 
"  principle,  and  universally  held  by  antiquity,  which  was 
"  this,  that  the  soul  was  eternal  a  parte  ante,  as  well  as 
"  a  parte  post;  which  the  Latins  well  expressed  by  the 
"  word  Sempiternus* ."  Does  the  reader  rind  any  of  that 
passion  here  which  our  quick-sighted  Advocate  has  dis 
covered  ?  All  I  can  say  to  the  matter  is,  that  as  it  is  the 
punishment  of  free-acting  to  fear  for  one's  self,  where 
no  fear  is;  so  it  is,  it  seems,  the  regard  of  free-thinking 
to  see  fear  for  others  where  no  fear  is. 

Well,  but  let  us  hear  what  he  has  to  say  to  the  passage 
from  Cudworth.  Now  I  readily  agree  (says  he)  that  what 
Cud  worth  says  of  the  philosophers  is  true  ;  but  deny  that 
what  Mr.  Warburton  quotes  him  for ',  can  any  ways  be 
proved  from  thence ;  which  is,  that  the  philosophers  held 
tfo  soul  to  be  eternal  a  parte  ant&  as  well  as  a  parte  post ; 
and  indeed  the  re  is  not  ONE  WORD  which  either  expresses, 
or,  WITH  ANY  TOLERABLE  PROPRIETY,  implies  any 
such  doctrine.  They  held,  says  Cudworth,  the  soul's 
pr<e -existence,  or  that  it  was  in  being  before  the  body ; 
'but  it  will  IMMEDIATELY  OCCUR  to  the  reader,  that  if 
it  pr<£-ejisted  only  one  day  or  one  hour,  before  it  was  m-> 
fused  into  the  body,  it  r tally  prte-evisted  as  much,  though 
not  so  long,  as  if  it  had  been  from  eternity.  .And  the 
whole  design  o/  Cudworth  is  to  shew,  that  the  Ancients 
held  the  soul  to  be  immortal.  FOR  this  reason  amongst 
others,  that  it  was  not  propagated  with  the  body,  and 
therefore  could  not  be  corrupted  K  ith  it ;  but  was  a  dis- 
*  Div.  Leg.  Book  III.  §  4* 


i86  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

thief  substance  from  it,  for  that  it  pr<e-existed,  or  teas 
mack  before  it,  as  he  proves  from  a  passage  of  Aristotle. 
Therefore  the  doctrine  of  prce-cxistence  does  not  in  the 
least  prove  the  soul  to  be  eternal  a  parte  ante ;  much  less 
that  it  was  discerpcd  or  torn  from  God  in  a  literal  sense. 
pp.  65,  66. — Pity  me,  reader !  who  am  forced  into  a 
controversy  with  an  Advocate  of  old  philosophy ,  who  has 
not  yet  so  much  as  learnt  his  first  elements  either  in  the 
old  or  new.  Why,  thou  mighty  man  of  law  !  if  the  An 
cients  were  to  prove  (as  in  this  case  you  own  they  wrere) 
that  the  soul  was  eternal  a  parte  post  by  an  argument 
taken  from  its  prcc-cxistence,  and  that  it  was  an  ac 
knowledged  principle  (as  we  both  agree  it  was)  that 
whatsoever  was  generated  could  not  be  proved  to  be  incor 
ruptible^  must  not  by  that  pnc-existence  be  meant  an 
eternal  pras-existence  ?  For  if  there  were  a  time  when  the 
soul  was  generated,  though  many  millions  of  years  before 
its  entrance  into  the  body,  it  could  not  be  proved  to  be 
eternal  a  part t  post '.  The  acknowledged  principle,  that 
whatever  was  generated  could  not  be  proved  to  be  incor 
ruptible,  forbidding  that  conclusion.  For,  the  reader 
must  take  notice,  trfeir  point  was  not  to  give  an  analogi 
cal  probability  that  the  soul  simply  survived  the  body, 
but  a  metaphysical  demonstration  that  it  would  survive 
for  ever.  And  let  him  not  imagine  that  our  Advocate 
has  only  mistaken  the  question,  and  argued  right  from 
the  wrong  state  of  it.  lie  delivers  it  truly  in  these  words, 
The  whole  design  of  Cudworth  is  to  shew,  that  the  An 
cients  held  the  soul  to  be  IMMORTAL.  He  wanted,  we 
see,  no  knowledge  of  the  particular  question  ;  all  his 
want  w7as  want  of  common  apprehension.  Yet  Cud- 
worth  thought  the  argument  so  obvious,  that  no  one,  who 
was  fit  to  read  his  book,  could  possibly  mistake  in  it : 
and  therefore  contented  himself  in  using  pr<e -existence 
simply,  without  adding  eternal,  as  the  argument  neces 
sarily  determined  the  mode  of  the  prce- existence.  Yet 
has  he  at  length  got  a  reader  who  is  fairly  able  to  mistake 
him,  and  who,  instead  of  being  thankful  for  an  explana 
tion  made,  as  it  appears,  for  his  peculiar  use,  will  find 
fault  with  his  instructor,  and  not  content  with  saying  that 
there  is  not  one  word  in  Cudworth,  which  expresses  my 
seme,  wall  add,  that  there  is  nothing  that  can  with  any 
2  tolerable 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  187 

tolerable  propriety  imply  it.  This  he  says;  and  yet 
(what  exceeds  belief)  he  had  but  just  before  transcribed 
these  very  words  of  Cudworth :  THEY  CLEARLY  PER 
CEIVING,  THAT,  IF  IT  WAS  ONCE  GRANTED  THAT  THE 
SOUL  WAS  GENERATED,  IT  COULD  NEVER  BE  PROVED, 
BUT  THAT  IT  MIGHT  ALSO  BE  CORRUPTED.  Now  if 

he  would  not  see  it.  is  he  fit  to  write  ?  And,  if  he  could 
not,  is  he  fit  to  be  read  r  Who  can  be  positive,  after 
this,  that  he  ever  saw  Cudwortlis  book,  which  concludes 
the  whole  observation  in  these  words:  "  The  Totumor 
"  Compositum  of  a  man  or  animal  may  be  said  to  be 
"  generated  and  corrupted  in  regard  of  the  union  and 
"  disunion,  conjunction  and  separation  of  those  two 
"  parts,  the  soul  and  body.  But  the  soul  itself,  accord- 
"  ing  to  these  principles,  is  NEITHER  A  THING  GENE- 
"  RABLE  NOR  CORRUPTIBLE*."  Yet  our  Advocate  tells 
us,  the  whole  design  of  Cudworth  is  to  shew,  that  the 
Ancients  held  the  soul  to  be  immortal,  FOR  this  reason 
amongst  others,  that  it  was  not  propagated  with  the 
body,  and  therefore  could  not  be  corrupted  with  it. 
Which  is  just  as  wise  a  reason  as  the  following  :  The  last 
Lord  Mayor  of  London  will  live  a  thousand  years,  FOR 
this  reason,  amongst  others,  that  he  was  in  being  before 
his  entrance  on  his  office,  and  existed  after  his  going  out 
of  it.  But  he  has  all  the  way  done  wonders  with  his 
FOR.  I  have  taken  upon  me  to  dignify  several  of  them 
with  capitals,  for  their  eminent  services.  But  the  bold 
humour  of  the  English  is,  never  to  spare  this  particle. 
On  the  contrary,  the  French,  a  wise  people,  when  the 
Royal  Academy  was  founded  for  the  advancement  of 
eloquence,  with  which  reason  had  little  to  do,  held  a 
solemn  sessions  for  the  extirpation  of  their  FOR,  CAR,  as 
an  useless  and  dangerous  word.  And  though,  I  think, 
it  escaped,  and  even  survived  the  edict  of  J\  antes  (not 
withstanding  all  the  mischief  it  had  done  the  Catholic 
cause)  yet  their  prudent  writers  are  extremely  reserved 
in  the  use  of  this  and  all  other  their  illative  particles. 
Feu  Gomberville  (says  one  of  their  Dictionary  writers) 
haissoit  le  mot  CAR,  parce,  disoit-il,  quit  venoit  du  Grec. 
The  late  Gomberville  hated  the  word  CAR,  because,  as 
he  said,  it  came  from  the  Greek.  How  happy  for  us, 

*  Intell,  Syst.  p.  39. 

that 


i88  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

that  our  FOR  is  differently  descended,  or  we  had  lost 
a  great  reasoner,  who  bears  as  thorough  an  antipathy  to 
Greek,  as  ever  did  Monsieur  GombcrcMe  I 

He  goes  on,  And  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  argue  in  the 
same  way  as  Mr.  Warburton.  The  Public,  I  believe, 
will  pardon  him,  let  him  begin  when  he  will.  Well,  but 
allow  him  to  do  what,  however,  we  are  never  to  expect 
of  him,  to  talk  a  little  plain  sense ;  what  then  ?  Why  the 
Ancients  could  not  strictly  believe  this  doctrine  [that  the 
soul  was  part  of  Godj,  because  it  is  greatly  INCONSIST 
ENT  with  another  well-known  opinion  amongst  them,  that 
souk  were  linked  to  bodies  for  a  punishment,  or  sent  down 
GS  into  a 'State  of  trial.  Now  for  his  reason — FOR  to 
suppose  in  the  gross  seme,  that  pieces  or  parts  of  the  ever 
ferfect  and  supreme  God  were  so  served,  is  WHAT  NO 

ONE  WILL  IMAGINE  THE  PHILOSOPHERS  CAPABLE  OF. 

pp.  66,  67.  FOR  is  here  again,  as  usual,  on  very  des-^ 
perate  service.  He  promises  to  shew  the  inconsistency 
between  two  metaphysical  opinions.  What  reader  novr 
but  would  expect  a  metaphysical  reason  ?  Instead  of  that, 
he  puts  us  off  with  a  moral  one.  No  one  will  imagim 
tht  philosophers  capable  of  holding  both  those  opinions. 
And  to  finish  the  absurdity,  this  is  called  arguing  like 
me,  in  an  instance  where  I  proved  the  meaning  of  a 
metaphysical  term  by  a  metaphysical  opinion.  If  I  may 
be  allowed,  says  he,  to  argue  in  the  same  way  as 
Mr.  Warburton. 

2.  But  to  be  at  a  word  with  him  and  his  philosophers 
together.  What  both  are  CAPABLE  OF  we  shall  now 
see.  It  is  agreed  that  Pythagoras  and  Plato  held  that 
souls  were  linked  to  bodies  for  a  punishment,  or  sent  down 
as  into  a  state  of  trial.  Yet  of  this  very  PYTHAGORAS 
Cicero  speaks  thus  :  Nam  Pythagoras,  qui  censuit  ani- 
mum  esse  per  naturam  rentm  omnem  intentum  <§*  com- 
meantem  ex  quo  nostri  animi  CARPERENTUR,  non  vidit 
distractione  humanorum  animorum  DISCERPI  LT  LACE- 
HA  in  DEUM.  Of  PL  A  TO  and  his  followers,  Arnobius 
speaks  thus:  Ipse  denique  animus  qui  IMMORTALIS  a 
vobis  $  DEUS  ESSE  NAiuiATUR,  cur  in  JEgris  tfger  sit, 
in  infantibus  stolidus,  in  sencctute  defessus?  Ddira  8$ 
fatua  8$  insana  I  Here  we  see  what  two  great  writers  of 
antiquity  thought  the  philosophers  capable  of.  Was  he 

ignorant 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  189 

Smorant  of  this?  No  ;  I  had  quoted  them  in  the  dis 
course  he  pretends  to  confute  *.  Did  he  attempt  to  con 
fute  them  ?  No  ;  nor  a  great  number  more  to  the  same 
purpose,  unless  this  may  be  called  a  confutation,  And 
we  may  observe,  that  SOME  of  his  authorities  to  prove 
this  are  exceedingly  strained,  and,  as  himself  acknowledges 
more  than  once?  are  otherwise  understood  by  learned  men* 
SOME  ?  What  then  are  the  rest  ?  But  as  to  these  some, 
does  he  prove  what  he  says  ?  Yes  :  And  how  ?  By  quot 
ing  my  acknowledgment,  th&t.they  are  differently  under 
stood  by  learned  men.  And  now,  reader !  What  dost 
thou  imagine  our  Advocate  capable  of? 

X.  He  goes  on. — And  because  the  philosophers,  speak 
ing  of  the  soul,  often  call  it  the  image  of  God,  divine  and 
immortal,  &c.  he  would  lead  the  reader,  from  such  expres 
sions,  unwarily  to  imagine,  that  it  was  literally  a  part  of 
God,  eternal  a  parte  ante,  the  same  as  the  soul  of  the 
world,  &c.     But  I  hope  to  make  the  contrary  appear  by 
some  plain  testimonies  of  antiquity :  and  the  first  I  shall 
produce  is  one  Mr.  W.  himself  has  helped  me  to,  and  u 
from  Stobasus,  where  Speusippus,  one  of  Plato's  follow 
ers,  says,  "  that  the  mind  was  neither  the  same  with  the 
"  One  or  the  Good,  but  had  a  peculiar  nature  oj  its  own? 
This,  Mr.  W,  owns,  expressly  contradicts  what  he  asserted 
of  Plato's  holding  the  soul  to  be  part  of  God;  but  he 
says  that  "  Stobseus  and  the  learned  Stanley  were  both 
"  mistaken  in  thinking  Speusippus  spoke  of  the  human 
"  mind,  whereas,  says  he,  it  relates  to  the  third  person  in 
"  the  trinity."   Now  supposing  we  take  Mr.  Warburtoas 
judgment  before  that  of  Stobseus  or  Stanley,  we  may  still 
fairly  conclude,  that  if  even   the  third  person  in  the 
trinity  was  not  the  same  as  God,  but  had  a  'peculiar  nature 
of  his  own,  much  less  was  the  soul  of  man  the  same ;  but 
that  it  had  a  distinct  nature  likewise,  pp.  67,  68. — He 
would  lead,   says   he,   the  reader  by   such  expression 
unwarily  to  imagine,  that  it  was  literally  a  part  of  God, 
Hear,  then,  by  what  kind  of  expressions  I  would  mislead 
the  unwary  reader.    A  natura  Deonim  ( says  Cicero)  ni 
doctissimis  sapientissimisque  placuit,  hausfos  animos  8$ 
UbatQ$  habemus,     And  again,  Humanus  autem  animus 

*  Di*,  Leg,   Book  III.  §  4* 

decerptui 


REMARKS  ON  TlLLARD. 

decerptus  e,v  mente  divina,  cum  alio  nullo  nisi  cum  ipso 
Deo  compel  rari  potest  *. — He  will  not  dispute  whether 
Stobxus  and  Stanley,  or  I,  be  in  the  right.  lie  does 
well.  But  then  he  says,  We  may  still  FAIRLY  cox- 
CLUDE,  that  if  even  the  third  person  in  the  trinity  was 
not  the  same  as  God,  but  had  a  peculiar  nature  of  his  own, 
much  less  was  the  soul  of  man  the  same;  but  that  it  had 
a  distinct  nature  likewise. — Such  a  concluder  would  have 
made  Aristotle  forswear  syllogism.  In  the  first  volume 
of  tiie  Divine  Legation  f  he  saw  these  words :  "  Again, 
u  the  rnaintainers  of  the  immateriality  of  the  Divine 
"  Substance  were  likewise  divided  into  two  parties;  the 
"  first  of  which  held  but  one  person  in  the  Godhead;  the 
Bother  too  or  three.  So  THAT  AS  THE  FORMER  BE- 

sc  LIEVED  THE  SOUL  TO  BE  PART  OF  THE  SUPREME 
"  GOD;  THE  LATTER  BELIEVED  IT  TO  BE  PART  ONLY 
"  OF  THE  SECOND  OR  THIRD  1IYPOSTASIS."  What  is 

to  be  done  with  this  prevaricator  ?  Will  he  plead  guilty, 
to  have  the  benefit  of  his  clergy?  Or  will  he  own  he 
could  not  read,  and  so  stand  upon  his  defence? — "  You 
c<  may  complain  (I  hear  him  say)  but  whose  fault  is  it  ? 
"  You  had  put  this  passage  amongst  your  nice  distinc- 
"  tions,  divisions,  and  subdivisions :  and  those  I  was  not 
"'  obliged  to  take  notice  of,  after  having  so  fairly  given 
"  you  warning  that  I  passed  over  all  such,  as  needless 
"  curiosities.'1'' 

But  I  begin  to  be  quite  weary  of  my  Advocate ;  I  am 
drawing  towards  a  conclusion  Math  him,  and  will  dispatch 
him  with  all  possible  expedition.  What  follows  w^on't 
stay  us  long. — As  to  the  passage  which  he  quotes  from 
M.  Antoninus,  it  is  nothing  more  than  an  exhortation,  to 
consider  what  will  become  of  the  soul  when  it  is  disunited 
or  separated  from  the  body :  and  though  Mr.  W.  makes 
him  to  speak  of  its  being  resolved  into  the  anima  mundi  ; 
yet  he  owns  at  the  same  time,  that  neither  Gataker  in  his 
notes,  or  Casaubon,  had  any  notion  that  the  doctrine  of 
refusion  was  here  alluded  to.  p.  68. — Gataker  and  Ca- 
saubon  did  not  understand  it  in  my  sense.  Does  he 
pretend  to  say  I  understand  it  wrong  ?  He  pretends  to 
know  nothing  of  the  matter :  so  I  leave  it  to  those  who 
do.  For  I  should  have  a  strange  love  for  answering,  if 

*  Div.  Leg,  Book  III.  §  4.  f  Ibid. 

I  gave 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  191 

I  gave  this  any  other  reply  than  Antoninuss  own  words: 
"  [To  die]  is  not  only  according  to  the  course  of  Nature, 
'"  but  of  great  use  to  it.  [We  should  consider]  how 
"  closely  Man  is  united  to  the  Godhead,  and  in  what 
"  part  of  him  that  union  resides  ;  and  what  will  be  the 
"  condition  of  that  part  or  portion  of  it  when  it  is 
"  resolved  [into  t\\e"amma  mimdi\*" 

The  next  authority  (says  he)  I  shall  produce,  Is  from 
PLOT  IN  us,  ic  ho  tells  us  that  the  soul  is  from  God;  and 
therefore  necessarily  loves  him,  yet  it  is  a  different 
existence  from  him. — Here  again  he  plays  his  old  trick 
upon  us.  PlotinuSy  a  philosopher  deep  in  the  times  of 
Christianity.  I  have  trie>i  in  vain  to  make  him  under* 
stand.  1  will  try  now  if  I  can  make  him  blush ;  while 
he  forces  me  to  repeat,  for  the  second  time,  the  following 
words  of  the  Divine  Legation.  "  Such  was  the  general 
t(  doctrine  on  this  point"  [namely,  that  the  soul  was 
God,  or  part  of  God]  before  the  coming  of  Christianity  ; 
"  but  then  those  philosophers,  who  held  out  against  its 
"  truth,  after  some  time  new-modelled  both  their  philo- 
"  sophy  and  religion ;  making  their  philosophy  more 
"  religious,  and  their  religion  more  philosophical. — So, 
"  amongst  the  many  improvements  of  Paganism,  THE 
"  SOFTENING  THIS  DOCTRINE  WAS  ONE.  The  modern 
"  Platonists  confining  the  notion  of  the  souCs  being  part 
"  of  the  divine  substance,  to  that  of  brutes. — And  it  i$ 
"  remarkable  that  then,  and  not  till  then,  the  philoso- 
"  phers  began  really  to  believe  the  doctrine  of  a  future 
"  state  t."  How  true  this  is,  we  may  see  by  this  very 
quotation  from  Plot-inns.  And  one  of  common  appre 
hension  would  have  seen,  by  his  words,  yet  it  is  a  dif 
ferent  existence  from  him,  that  tins  was  an  innovation  in 
philosophy.  For  were  it  not  the  common  opinion,  that 
the  soul  was  of  the  same  existence  with  God,  or  part  of 
him,  this  caution  and  explanation  had  been  impertinent. 
However,  he  goes  on  unmercifully  to  shew  the  orthodoxy 
of  Piotinus,  and  of  his  commentator  Ficinus,  in  this 
point :  Where  speaking  I  don't  know  what,  nor  why,  of 
the  Wg'et&titoe  soul,  he  takes  an  opportunity  to  criticise  a 
passage  I  brought  from  Plutarch,  Of  this  soul  [namely 
the  vegetative]  it  is  of  which  Plutarch  manifestly  sfe&fa, 
,  *  Div,  Ug.  Book  III.  §  4,  t  Ibid, 

where 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

where  he  says,  "  that  Pythagoras  and  Plato  held  the  soul 
"  to  be  immortal ;  for  that  launching  out  into  the  soul  of 
"  the  universe,  it  returned  to  its  parent  and  original." 
THAT  THIS  MUST  BE  INTENDED  OF  THE  VEGETATIVE 
SOUL  is  PLAIN,  from  his  mentioning  two  other  souls 
from  the  same  authorities,  immediately  after,  in  a  quite 
different  light.  "  Pythagoras  and  Plato,  says  he,  hold 
"  that  the  rational  soul  is  immortal',  for  that  this  soul  is 
"  not  God,  but  the  workmanship  of  the  Eternal  God; 
*'  and  it  is  the  irrational  soul  which  is  mortal  and  cor- 
"  ruptible"  So  that  unless  we  can  suppose  Plutarch  in 
tended  to  make  Pythagoras  and  Plato  contradict  them 
selves,  we  must  conclude  their  opinions  in  this  passage  to 
be,  that  the  vegetative  soul  was  diffused  into  the  life  of 
the  universe ;  that  the  sensitive  or  irrational  soul  was 
mortal  and  corruptible ;  and  that  the  rational  soul  was  a 
distinct  existence  made  by  God.  But  this  last  part  is 
not  at  all  taken  notice  of  by  Mr.  Warburton,  though  in 
the  very  same  paragraph  with  the  first  which  he  quotes. 
pp.  70,  71. 

1.  Unless  we  can  suppose  (says  he)  Plutarch  intended 
to  make   Pythagoras  and  Plato   contradict   themselves. 
Suppose,  Quotha !  Did  he  never  hear  that  this  Plutarch 
wrote  an  express  treatise  on  the  Contradictions  of  the 
Stoics  ?  A  sect  of  as  good  a  house  as  either  Pythagoras 
or  Plato.     Will  he  never  see,  that  if  the  philosophers 
had  a  double  doctrine,  which  he  has  laboured  to  prove, 
they  must  perpetually  contradict  themselves  ?    But  our 
Advocate  is  so  captivated  a  lover  (Pref.  p.  v)  so  ena 
moured  of  his  dear  philosophers,  that   the  very  air  of  a 
contradiction  shocks  him. 

2.  Well  then,  not  to  disgust  the  delicacy  of  a  lover,  I 
will  humour  him.     It  shall  be  no  contradiction ;  nor  will 
I  suppose  Plutarch  such  a  brutal  as  to  insinuate  any  thing 
so  gross.     But  now,  if,  like  a  true  inamorato,  he  will  not 
suffer  them  to  be  defended   by  any  hand  Jbut  his  own, 
then  we  shall  begin  to  differ.     He  tells  us  that  when 
Plutarch  says  Pythagoras  and  Plato  held  the  soul  to  be 
immortal,  IT  is  PLAIN  THIS  MUST  BE  INTENDED   OF 
THE  VEGETATIVE  SOUL. — An  immortal  vegetative  soul! 
'Tis  a  prodigy  that  deserves  an  expiation.     But  to  know 
whether  Plutarch  or  our  Advocate  be  the  real  father  of 

this 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  193 

this  monster,  it  will  be  necessary  to  transcribe  the  whole 
chapter:  "  Pythagoras  and  Plato  held  the  soul  to  be 
"  immortal  ;  for  that  lanching  out  into  the  soul  of  the 
"  universe,  it  returns  to  its  parent  and  original.  The 
"•Stoics  say,  that  on  its  leaving  the  body,  the  more  infirm 
"  (that  is,  the  soul  of  the  ignorant)  suffers  the  lot  of  the 
"  body  :  But  the  more  vigorous  (that  Av,  the  soul  of  the 
"  7riseJ  endures  to  the  conflagration.  Democritus  and 
"  Epicurus  say  the  soul  is  mortal,  and  perishes  with  the 
"  body:  Pythagoras  and  Plato.,  that  the  reasonable  soul 
"  is  uncorrupt  (for  it  is  to  be  observed,  the  soul  /.y  not 
<c  God,  but  the  workmanship  of  the  Eternal  God)  and 
"  the  irrational  mortal/' 


£i«crai/  ruv 


rr,v  pv  trgcty     [       TOO: 


7T?C\  TKS  <T0^5iJ,  xj  [AtftOl  TV  f  £JC7TUpW7-£W?-. 


(KAI    TAP  TTI 
rz  ctijtx  $£2  UTrapp/siv)  TO    J'E  aAoyoi/,  (pfyzfloy.      lltci  TWV 

TOK  $>*A.  Bt^A.  (T.  K.  £.  Mere  we  see,  the  soul  first 
mentioned,  and  said  to  be  immortal,  and  to  lanch  out 
into  the  soul  of  the  universe,  was  the  same  which  the 
Stoics  held  to  endure,  when  it  had  been  in  their  wise  man, 
till  the  conflagration  ;  was  the  same  which  Detxocritiwaiid 
Epicurus  held  to  be  mortal.  And  was  this  the  VL:G  I:TATI  v  i: 
soul  ?  .How  hard  has  the  world  dealt.  with  DeimerUjtsand 
Epicurus  for  twenty  round  ages,  only  for  holding  that 
the  I'e.g'eldlrct'  soul  was  mortal  !  A  very  reasonable 
opinion,  had  there  been  any  wgctatirc  sou  I  at  all.  But 
what,  then  must  we  say  to  the  contradiction,  which  I  have 
promised  to  remove,  and  which  seems  now  quite  fixed, 
since  we  have  evaporated  this  spirit  of  vegetative  immor 
tality  ^  from  the  passage?  The  plain  solution  of  the  diffi 
culty  is  this  :  When  Plutarch  had  mentioned  the  impious 
notion  of  the  soul's  mortality,  first  started  by  Democritus 
and  Epicurus,  lie  opposes  it  by  that  of  Pythagoras  and 
Plato,  lie  had  told  us  before,  that  these  held  the  soul 
to  be  immortal  :  But  now,  using  their  authority  to  con 
fute  the  other  tzco,  he,  like  a  judicious  writer,  explains 
it  with  more  exactness.  He  tells  us.  that  Pythagoras 
VOL.  XL  O  and, 


i(>4  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD, 

and  Plato  held  the  reasonable  soul  to  be  immortal,  the 
irrational  mortal.  When,  in  the  beginning  of  the  chapter, 
he  had  said,  they  htki  the  soul  to  be  iinmorttd,  he  added 
ii.'.ir  reason,  fur  that  lanching  out,  Sec.  TAP  §1;  TO  T* 
-sraflos,  £e.  Now  here,  in  the  conclusion,  mentioning 
again  the  same  dogma,  he  adds  his  own,  For  it  is  to  be 
observed  the  soul  is  not  God,  £c.  XAI  TAP  tr&  tj/y^v,  £c. 
Tor  Plutarch  had,  with  the  rest  of  the  philosophers  of 
the  Christian  times,  refined  his  notions  on  this  matter  : 
They  said,  the  soul  was  immortal,  because  it  was  related 
to  the  soul  of  the  universe;  He  .said,  it  was  immortal^ 
because  it  was  the  work  oj  God.  Henri}  Stephens,  who, 
it  seems  probable,  saw  this  was  Plutarch*  s,  and  not 
P<ythdgor.a$&  or  Plato's  philosophy,  makes  the  words 
fefvyaf  TXJ/  $&%i*  «  $fw  #AAa  ta  d'iMn  3"£a  VJTA^^HV)  a  pa 
renthesis,  as  he  does  raurui/  J^  £*«/&*  irSw  cHiroitfyuTuv)  and  a& 
he  should  have  done  ofa  If!  qr^I  T«C  o-o?*f ;  both  which  are 
the  explanatory  remarks  of  Plutarch.  And  now  it  is  to 
be  hoped  our  Advocate  sees  why  this  last  part  was  not 
at  all  taken  notice  of  by  Mr.  Warburton  though  in.  the 
very  same  paragraph  with  the  Jirst  which  he  quoted 
But  what  does  he  now  see  of  his  contradiction? 

We  have  said  what  it  was  that  induced  Plutarch  to 
interfere  with  his  own  opinion  in  this  matter.  The  very 
same  concern  for  the  orthodoxy  of  old  Pagan  philosophy 
(then  to  be  opposed  to  Christianity)  that  now  seems  to 
distress  our  Advocate.  The  very  same  that  made  Pfatwus 
cry  out,  as  above,  Thx  sou!  neGessarily  lores  Gcd,  yet  /.y 
a  different  wistetWGjropi  him.  And  this  will  account  for 
JPlubircfis  labouring  so  mud)  as  he  does,  in  the  place 
quoted  by  our  Advocate,  at  his  7.5th  page,  to  free  pjifto 
from  tiie  charge  of  making  the  soul  eternal  and  uncreated. 
For  a  charge,  it  seems,  it  was,  and  a  heavy  one  too, 
upon  him.  Now  where  Pluiarch  performs  the  faithful 
office  of  an  historian,  in  delivnug  us  the  plaeits  of  the 
old  philosophers,  there,  we  see,  ho  owns  both  Pytha 
goras  and  Plato  held  this  opinion  ;  but  here,  where  he 
acts •  the  Advocate^  1  mean  of  old  Pagan  philosophy,  he. 
endeavours  to  distinguish  .away  the  accusation.  Thus  at 
length- we  see  the  contradiction  lies  at  Plutarch's  door; 
wiiieh  will  require  more  than  a  vegetative  'umnorlality  t€> 
remove  :  Leg-iildo  dig-mts  vindice  rwdus. 

These 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARIX  195 

:A  Tiiese  three  passages,  from  Stobceu-s,  M.  Antoninus* 
and  Plutarch^  are  the  only  three  of  the  great  number  I 
brought  to  prove  the  Greek  philosophers  held  the  soul  to 
be  part  of  God,  which  our  Advocate  has  ventured  to 
undertake.  These  he  thought  he  could  manage  :  And 
envy  must  own  he  has  acquitted  himself  to  admiration. 

XI.  But  that  Plato  was  orthodox  in  this  point,  he  will 
now  shew  from  Plato  himself.  —  And  that  this  was  Plato's 
opinion  (says  he)  concerning  the  human  rational  soul,  1 
shall  further  prove—  from  \iimdf.  —  In  one  place  he  says, 
"  ffo  have  spoke  most  truly  in  asserting  the  soul  was 
"  made  before  the  body,  and  the  body  in  the  second  place, 
"  and  after  the  soul,  forasmuch  as  the  governing  part 
"  ought  in  point  of  time  to  be  created  before  that  which 
"  is  governed"  pp.  71,  72.  Where  says  he  this?  Where 
think  you  but  in  the  old  place,  his  Book  of  Laws?  It  is 
an  odd  fancy  this,  in  our  Advocate,  to  go  so  continually 
to  a  Book  of  Laws  for  Plato's  religious  sentiments.  Law 
and  Gospel,  let  me  tell  him,  agreed  no  better  formerly 
than  they  do  now.  But  he  must  needs  go  as  his  index 
led  him.  Which  in  this  road  always  points  exoterically* 
Let  us  follow  him  then  into  his  warehouse  of  Laws. 
Here,  to  our  great  surprise,  we  find,  that  Plato  is  not 
speaking  of  the  origin  of  the  human  rational  soul,  but  of 
a  very  different  thing.  This  tenth  Book  of  Laws,  from 
whence  he  takes  his  quotation,  is  employed  to  prove  the 
Being  of  a  God  against  Atheism.  One  of  his  arguments, 
for  an  eternal  mind,  is,  That  that  is  the  first  efficient 
Cause  which  moves  itself  and  all  other  things.  But  MIND 
moves  itself  and  all  other  things  :  Therefore  MIND  is  the 
first  efficient.  Hence,  in  the  words  of  the  quotation,  it 
is  inferred,  That  the  soul  was  before  the  body,  Vvyv*  pi* 
TJrjplsf&v  ytfovwzi  fund®*  r'^iV  And  farther,  that  there  is 
one  general  Soul  or  Alind,  that  governs  the  universe, 


EJ/  aaff-i  T0  tv&vn  XiMffAfcWf  qiAuv  «  x  rait 
civ  uypii  hoiKitv  QottoH  ;  Now,  who  sees  not  that  it 
Plato's  business  here,  to  shew  only  in  the  abstract, 
that  mind  was  prior  to  body  ;  and  altogether  beside  his 
purpose  to  speak  of  the  origin  of  the  human  soul  ?  Yet 
our  Advocate,  misled  by  the  Latin  translator,  and  un*- 
aided  by  any  discernment  of  his  own,  makes  Plato's 
words  relate  to  the  creation  of  the  soul  That  the  soul 

O  a 


REMARKS  ON  TILLAUD. 

s  MADE  before  the  body  ;  aninuim  ante  corpus  F 
fume.  But  Plato  in  his  Epinomis,  referring  to  this  very 
place,  explains  the  meaning  in  these  words  :  That  veer  if 
soul  is  elder  than  even/  body  ;  on  •srp£<r€vTE£Gv  w  ^XP 
<rwpot\&3  Kiracnx,  Txaflcq.  Yet  was  this  passage  so  far  from 
helping  our  Advocate  to  the  true  sense  of  his  quotation, 
•that  he  even  refers  to  it  for  the  confirmation  of  his  mis 
take.  All  therefore  that  Plato's  argument  required  was. 
to  prove,  that  w/w/was  before  body.  But  had  lie  thought 
proper  to  digress  about  the  origin  of  the  soul,  he  must 
needs  have  made  it  ungcnerQtedj  from  a  principle  he  lays 
down  in  this  very  place,  namely,  That  the  MO  til  zcax  a 

To  laJ? 


for  a  self  -moving  and  an  eternal-moving  substance  were 
the  same  thing  amongst  the  Ancients.  So  Plutarch  tells 
us,  that  Tliales  was  tliejirs't  zcho  tauglit  the  wid  to  he  an 
oi'big  OR  self-niopbig  nature,  OaAri? 


Our  Advocate  goes  on  with  his  Plato:  In  another 
-place  (says  he)  GW,  r///cvm  tuning  made  the  ANC;ELS,  /'->• 
introduced  as  deircenng  them  materials  to  Jorrn  man 
and  other  animals,  and  as  speaking  to  fKem  In  tlua 
manner:  "  (io  to  then,  turn  yourself  to  the  'formation 
"  of  animate,  according  to  the  tops  of  mil  u  re,  arid  imitate 
u  that  efficacious  pcicer  u'hich  /  myself  uwd  in  your 
tl  product  in  ;  and  *i  nee  they  tdll  be  created  as  it  zee  re 
*:Jfellaw-citi$cns  zclth  yourwkc.^  they  shall  be  esteemed 
u  of  d'rcine  e.rfracl,  and  until  hare  dominiQn  onr  all 
"  other  creatures*  p.  72. 

i.  God,  after  furcing  made  the  AXOF.IS  (say  he). 
Would  the  reader  know  what  sort  of  angels  he  has  here 
to  do  with  ?  Our  Advocate  is  silent.  But  honest  Plato 
tells  us  their  names  :  Saturn,  Rhea,  Jupiter,  Juno,  and 
the  rest  of  the  Pagan  Gods  and  Demons,  n^l  &  ™* 

£J7T£iV  -  F"/lf    T£    X^  OJ£#i'5  "ST  &?'*£$   "Xlxfftltf;    T£    Xy 

'  IK  TZTUV  $1,  $cxuj  T£  xj  K'x^5  xj   P="»,    &C. 


But  if  philosophers  are  to  pass  fov  apostles,  why  may  not 
Heathen  Gods  stand  for  angels?  Of  these  holy  a  r  gals  ^ 
Plato  says  'it  would  be  impiety  not  to  believe  what  the 
ancient  Mythologists  taught  concerning  them,  IIEIITEON 

"-Plat  Phil.  1.4.  c.  2. 

it 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  197 

>/  rt  9        •  t  \          C\      **          *f  *       >/ 

IV    £jU7T^O(T7lV,     EXyoVOK    ^UEl/     'J'SWI/     a<7JJ/     W?   Ei^aff'aV', 
5J<{    TJif   aUTiOJ/    7j3'pOfyGV2$  fiO&CTiV*  OLOVVOLIOV  &V  3"£WV  T&MIG'W 

Dein^  now  in  the  humour,  he  tells  us,  that  when 

God  treated  souls,  he  disposed  them  amongst  the  stars : 

isaVunarftif  'ix.ot.rQv — That  they  suiiered  transmigi c;iwn  into 


ETt 

£V£C-£W?,   fff 

K  QVG-IV.     And  is  not  this  a  likely  place  to  tind 
Plato  s  real  sentiments  concerning  the  soul  ? 

2.  But  what  do  \ve  talk  of  his  real  sentiments?  The 
book,  from  whence  our  Advocate  brings  this  passage, 
contains  not  Plato  s  sentiments  at  all,  but  another  Man's, 
one  TiuKt'its  Locru.s,  of  whose  hook,  ck  Anima  ^lundi, 
this  work  of  Plato  §  is  a  Comment.  rlhe  passage  ii> 
question,  particularly,  being  a  paraphrase  on  these  words 
of  TimtfUS,  MET  A  $1  roiv  TO;  XOO-/AW  fl-Jr«<r*v,  (§'C.* 

But  our  Advocate,  now  grievously  beiuircd,  yet  floun 
ders  on. — Ami  a ^rain  PLATO  MUCH  TO  THE  SAME  PUR 
POSE  SAYS,  " -.that  ajter  God  had  jormed  the  ivorld,  he 
"  allotted  the  human-  -soul  to  he  disposed  oj  by  A'aturc,  as 
"  his  vicegerent^  §c.  p.  73.  Can  the  reader  now  guess 
whither  we  are  sent  to  look  for  these  words  ? — To  3  Plot* 
99  1).  which  fairly  brings  us  a  mile  beyond  Plato,  to  a 
treatise  of  Timaus  LOOMS,  intitled,  l)e  Amma  Mu)ul\. 
The  swallow  ing  Sigojiius  for  Cicero  was  a  trifle  to  this 
exploit  Here  he  saw  writ  in  fair  Lathi  characters,  over 
the  page,  Tiiiiai  Locri  de  Amma  j\Iundi.  If  one  did 
not  know  him,  one  should  take  him  to  be  of  the  humour 
of  that  critic,  who  had  a  great  mind  that  erery  thing 
that  icas  good  xhc.uUl  he  his  Jarain'ite  authors.  But  he 
was  puzzled  with  the  two  titles.  One  was,  the  Tim  a  us  of 
Plato;  the  other,  the  Amma  Mundi  oj  Tinunis.  This 
was  the  deep  problem  of  the  Ilorxe-niitl,  and  Mill-horse: 
but  the  best  of  the  story  is,  he  here  again  (as  in  the 
former  case  of  the  llaok  oj -'Law  and  Ephiowii)  brings 
these  words  QiThmcius  to  coniirm  his  sense  of  the  fore 
going  quotation  from  the  Timam  of  Plato;  and  says, 
as  well  he  might,  VM;  -much  to  the  same  purpose.  This  I 
remark  to  the  honour  of  his  penetration.  For  though 
*  Plato  Serr.  Vol.  III.  p.  99. 

' 


ig8  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

he  did  "not  know  one  was  the  text,  and  the  other  the 
comment,  yet  he  found  out  hy  mere  dint  of  sagacity, 
that  they  were  very  near  akin.  And  this  is  all  the  fruit 
of  his  Platonic  journey.  Unhappy  Advocate  !  What 
a  progress  hast  thou  made !  from  Plato  nothing  to  the 
purpose,  to  no  Plato  at  all !  But  we  had  best  stop 
here,  lest  the  next  quotation  should  be  from  Nobody. 
And  indeed  'tis  next  to  nobody ;  'tis  from  Apuleius,  a 
writer  in  the  Christian  times.  A  trick,  now  too  stale 
^ven  to  laugh  at. 

We  are  come  at  last  to  our  Advocate's  peroration.   And 
to  say  the  truth,  it  was  time  for  him  to  have  done.    There 
fore,  after  all  this  (says  he)  Mr.  Warburton  need  not  any 
longer  admire,  $c.  No,  truly,  he  IMS  eased  me  of  this 
passion.  The  admiring   at  a  free-thinker. — It  is  very 
true,  that  some  few  expressions  now  and  then  may  be 
found  in  the  writings  of  the  philosophers,  as,  that  the  soul 
is  a  part  of  God ;  comes  from  God',  is  discerped  from 
him-,  is  a   ray  of  the  divinity;  is   one  with  God,  fyc. 
if  taken  in  a  strict  literal  sense,  might  in  some  measure 
answer   Mr.  Warburton's  purpose:    BUT   WHEN    THE 
LITERAL  SENSE  is  PLAINLY  ABSURD,  and  the  contrary 
maintained  by  a  multitude  of  clear  expressions,  we  (f 
course  understand  them   FIGURATIVELY,    pp.  75,  76. 
Without  doubt.     So  that  when  we  are  told  Epicurus 
held  the  sun  and  moon  to  be  no  bigger  than  they  seem ; 
Pyrro,  that  nothing  could  be  known;  and  Zeno,  that  all 
'crimes  were  equal;  the  literal  sense  being  plainly  absurd '; 
we  must  believe  nothing  of  the  matter.     But  as  he  hath 
talked  of  tliejigurathe  terms  of  a  language,  in  which  he 
understands  no  terms  at  all,  he  should  now  learn  to  hold 
his  tongue,   and  hearken   to  his   teachers.     The  great 
Gassendi  was   incomparably  the   best  versed  in  ancient 
Greek  philosophy  of  any  man  in  these  latter  ages,  and 
he  never  dreniiit  of  this  more  than  Jig  it  rat 'we  lolly  of  our 
Advocate.     He  knew  the  Greek  and  Latin  expressions 
would  bear  no  such  interpretation  :  and  therefore  tells  us 
roundly,  that  there  was  scarce  an  ancient  philosopher, 
who  was  not  what  we  now  call  a  Spino&st.     "  Interim 
"  (says  he)  tamen  vix  VLLifoere  ((juce  humane  mentis 
"  caligo,   utqiic  imbtciliitas  est)  qui  non   inciderint  in 
*'  error  em  ilium  de  KEFUSJOXE   IN  A  KIM  AM  MUNDI. 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARDi  199 

*  Nimirum,  siait  existiinantnt  SIXGUI.ORUM  AN i MAS 

•"  PAUTICULAS    ESSE  AXIM.E    MUtfDAXJE,  qUJi'lMl  qittf- 

4i  libct  suo  corj)ort\  nt  aqua  vase,  includeretur ;  it  a  8$  re- 
"  put  ar  lint  unamqu  unique  Gniniarn,  cor  pore  dissoluto^ 
"quasi  d/ffracto  rase,  efllucrc,  ac  ANIM.E  MUNDI  E 

""  QUA   DEDUCTA   FUERIT,  1TERUM   UMHI*." 

And  now,  after  aJl  that  has  passed  between  us,  I  may 
be  allowed  at  parting  to  ask  my  nameless  adversary  what 
he  is?  His  betters,  when  ciiey  went  incognito,  have  beeri 
thus  questioned,  and  without  offence.  The  great  Pytha 
goras  himself  was  asked  it;  and  his  ansv.er  will  fit  our 
Advocate  as  if  it  had  been  made  for  him.  And  that  he 
may  not  be  forced  to  descend  from  his  present  dignity  of 
quotation,  I  will  press  him  no  farther,  but  suppose  he 
gives  an  inquirer  this,  that  his  ancient  master  made  to  Leon, 
prince  of  the  Phliasians,  who  asked  him  what  he  was, 
ART  (says  he)  I  know  none;  but  lama  PHiLOsopiiEir|V 

XII.  Let  us  conclude  with  a  general  view  of  our 
Advocates  performances.  He  will  write  against  the 
Third  Booh  irj  *  the  Divine  Legation  of  Moses:  but  pro 
poses  only  to  .consider  what  in  .tils  apprehension  affects 
the  argument  Yet  of  this  little,  tor  iris  apprehension  is 
not  ihuclij  lie  has  not  considered  one  tenth,  part.  J.  -\d 
how  that  abounds  in  all  kind  of  julsc  reu^oni'ii1.^  and 
abmrd  quotation,  \\-je  have  given  the  reader  a  kind  of 
specimen.  But  to  make  amends  for  an  imperfect  repre 
sentation,  he  may  be  p  Least  a  to  take  notice,  that,  besides 
all  particular  local  graces,  there  are  FOUR  GENERAL 
FALLACIES,  that  run  throughout  this  noble  work.  Two 
in  point  of  quotation,  two  of  reasoning, 

1.  The  first  is  in  quoting  poets,  or  any  body,  instead 
of  philosophers. 

2.  The  second  in  quoting  philosophers  after  Christ. 

3.  The  third  in  urging  exoteric  doctrines  for  esoteric. 

4.  And  the  fourth  in  concluding  from  what  was  said  of 
fulse  gods,  to  what  they  thought  of  the  true, 

I  call  these  by  the  knavish  lit-.c  the  schools  of  philosophy 
have  given  them,  which,  like  the  courts  of  luw^  make  no 

*  Div.  Leg.  Vol.  ill.  p.  156. 

t  A  item  (juidem  se  scire  nullam ;  sed  jesse  philosophum.  Cic  Tus^. 
Disp.  1,  $.  c.  3, 

0  4  provision 


200  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD: 

provision  for  fools  :  but,  upon  my  word,  I  am  net  satisfied 
whether  they  be  not  very  honest  blunder^.  However,  he 
lias  now  his  choice  to  call  them  \\hat  he  will,  so  he  no 
longer  pretend  to  call  them  argument. 

liis  first  Chapter,  as  I  said,  is  the  only  one  with  Mhich 
I  am  concerned.  \Y\sscccnd  is  intided,  rl' he  Opinions  of 
the  Philosophers  concerning  a  future  State.  It  is  made 
up  of  some  six-dozen  of  ill-chosen  quotations,  \vhieli  so 
amazed  him  that  he  could  not  forbear  saying  on  the 
entrance  to  his  labour,  It  scans  very  surprising,  notu'ith- 
standing  cdl  the  following  authorities,  and  many  more 
which  no  doubt  this  learned  gentleman  must  have  met 
with  to  the  contrary,  that  lie  should  thus  speak  of  the 
phi losop tiers:  "  I  have  examined  their  writings  with  all 
"  the  exactness  1  was  able,  and  it  appears  evident  to  me 
"  that  these  men  believed  nothing  of  a  Juture  state  of 
"  rewards  and  punishments,  which  they  most  industrious  (if 
"propagated  in  society"  p.  2.  By  this  time,  I  suppose, 
I  have  eased  him  of  his  surprise :  so  that  we  are  now 
even  by  a  reciprocal  cure.  In  one  point  however  he  is 
right.  lie  supposes  I  could  have  furnished  him  with 
many  more  authorities^  I  couid,  111  assure  him  :  more 
than  with  six  hundred  to  his  six  dozen.  But  it  is  pleasant 
to  observe,  in  this  chapter  of  quotations,  with  what  judg 
ment  he  brings  in  three  Epicureans,  Ilrgil,  Luelan,  and 
('cfsus,  to  bear  witness  to  a  future  state  of  rewards  and 
punishments,  who  without  doubt  believed  what  they  said. 
Honest  Celtus,  cries  out,  under  the  mask  and  in  the  tone 
of  a  modern  free-thinker,  God  J  or  bid,  that  either  they, 
or  _/,  or  any  man  firing,  should  endeavour  to  subvert  the 
belief  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  p.  if>2. 
AVho,  when  he  hears  this,  can  forbear  concluding  with  our 
Advocate — I  say,  when  a  man  talks  in  this  manner,  it  is 
hardly  possible  act  to  imagine  him  in  earnest,  p.  82. 

I  call  this  his  chapter  of  quotations.  It  is  its  proper 
title:  it  is  made  up  of  them,  and  a  jolly  company  they 
are,  but  so  transceudentiy  chosen  and  translated,  that 
some  time  or  other  it  may  chance  to  become  as  famous 
as  Scarron's  chapter  of  Horse-JMters,  which  once, 
indeed,  on  a  time  met  together  because  they  were  forced; 
but,  for  ail  that,  each  of  them,  while  in  the  disposal  of  their 
owners,  was  taking  a  different  road.  At  present  I  shall 

only 


REMARKS  ON  TILLARD.  201 

only  desire  the  reader  to  observe,  that  the  three  Jirst  of 
the  four  general  sophisms  shine  throughout  this  chapter 
w  ith  a  distinguished  lustre. 

lie  has  two  more  chapters  upon  something  or  other; 
and  then  concludes  with  a  pastoral-letter  to  the  free 
thinkers,  (Jt  SOB  nil  ad  everltndam  rempubllcam  Chris* 
tlanam  acccderent. 

Thus  it  hath  been  my  fortune  to  displease  the  bigots 
on  both  sides.  I  make  no  question,  but  the  impartial 
reader  will  be  ready  to  congratulate  with  me  on  so  fair 
an  appeai  ance  of  being  in  the  rio;ht. 

As  for  this  fantastic  zealot  in  tiie  cause  of  Paganism, 
I  have  used  him,  it  is  true,  with  little  ceremony.  Let 
the  reader  judge,  if  he  deserved  more.  I  had  put  my 
name  to  what  I  wrote,  and  he  attacks  me  in  secret.  Had 
either  I  concealed  mine,  or  he  told  his,  he  might  then 
haye  expected  (if  on  other  accounts  he  had  a  right  to  it) 
what  the  usual  commerce  of  civility  demands  between 
people  upon  equal  terms:  but  writing  without  a  name, 
in  the  manner  he  has  done,  is  least  of  all  excusable. 
Por,  when  a  man's  person  or  reputation  is  attacked,  I 
know  little  difference  between  the  ruffian,  and  the  writer, 
in  the  dark. 

I  may  be  the  rather  allowed  to  speak  freely  on  this 
head,  because  I  never  yet  wrote  against  any  book  or 
author,  whatsoever,  any  farther  than  occasional  reflections 
on  particular  questions,  which  no  one  can  avoid  who 
treats  of  subjects  like  tbose  I  am  engaged  in.  Once 
indeed,  and  but  once,  I  took  upon  myself  the  honour  of 
defending  a  sublime  genius  against  the  cavils  of  an  inju 
rious  pedant.  But  an  attack  by  anszcer,  remarks,  con- 
filiation,  or  any  of  the  formal  apparatus  of  literary 
assault,  I  never  made  on  any  author  whatsoever.  To 
say  the  truth,  I  prize  my  ease  and  quiet  at  too  high 
a  rate,  to  hazard  them  in  the  vain  or  Interested  employ 
ment  of  discrediting  any  popular  or  party  writer  whatso 
ever.—  •  Nee  qulsijuam  noceat  cwpldo  imhl  pads ! 

I  should  now,  perhaps,  crave  pardon  of  the  severer 
reader,  for  the  levitied  that  have  'escaped  me  both  here 
and  in  the  Preface.  But  if  he  that  loses  may  have  leave 
to  speak,  sure  he  that's  libelFd  though  he  loses  nothing, 
may  have  leave  to  laugh.  And  what  else  was  to  be  done 

with 


202  REMARKS  ON  TILLARD. 

with  my  doctor  and  student  ?  who,  whether  they  railed  or 
reasoned,  how  much  soever  in  their  own  professions,  were 
still  on  the  wrong  side  common  sense  and  common 
honesty.  For  they  have  managed  things  so  well,  that  the 
one  has  lost  his  reasoning  in  the  study  of  the  law,  and  the 
other  his  chanty  in  defence  of  the  gospel.  Besides,  on 
some  occasions,  what  mortal  can  forbear?  Who  would 
have  suspected  our  solemn  tragic  doctor  for  a  risible 
animal  ?  Yet  there  are  seasons,  when  his  own  blunders 
dispose  him  to  he  jocular,  and  he  irreverently  aims  at  wit 
xvith  the  face  of  an  Irish  inquisitor  f. 

In  conclusion,  If  any  man  (to  use  the  words  of  a  great 
writer)  EQUAL  TO  THE  MATTER*,  shall  think  it  apper 
tains  him  to  take  in  hand  this  con'rorcrzy,  cithtr  ex 
cepting  against  aught  written,  or  persuaded  he  can  shew 
heller  how  this  question  may  receive  a  true  determination; 
if  his  intents  be  sincere  to  the  public,  and  shall  carry  him 
on  without  BITTERNESS  to  the  OPINION  or  to  the  PERSON 
dissenting,  let  him  not,  I  intreat  him,  guess  by  the  hand 
ling  which  meritoriously  hath  been  bestowed  on  these 
Objects  oj  contempt  and  laughter,  that  I  account  it  any 
displeasure  done  to  me  to  be  centra  dieted  in  print :  But  as 
it  leads  to  the  attainment  of  any  thing  more  true,  shall 
esteem  it  a  benefit',  and  shall  know  how  to  return  his 
CIVILITY  and  FAIR  ARGUMENT  in  such  sort,  as  he  shall 
confess  that  to  do  so  is  my  choice^  and  to  have  done  thux 
was  my  chance. 

*   See  the  Weekly  Miscellany  throughout. 

•f  Mr.  Chubb,  I  am  told,  has  addressed  something  or  other  to  me 
at  the  end  of  his  late  Discourse  on  Miracles.  1  suppose  he  only  wants 
jny  acknowledgments ;  and  he  shall  have  them :  For  the  reason 
above  shews  why  I  must  always  decline  his  kind  overtures  of  farther 
acquaintance.  I  confess  then  he  is  a  very  extraordinary  person  :  and 
think  he  may  say  with  the  subtil  peasant  in  Molicre — Oui,  si  j'avois 
£tudKvj'auroiii  vie  songer,a.  des  choses  ou  Ton  n'a  jamais  songe. 


[  203  ] 


POSTSCRIPT 

TO 

THE    REMARKS; 

In  Answer  to  some  OBJECTIONS  of 
DR.  SYKE& 


TO  put  things  of  a  sort  together,  I  shall  take  this 
occasion  to  pay  my  respects  to  the  Author  of  the  Prin 
ciples  and  C 'onned  ion  of  Natural  and  Revealed  Religion*, 
who  has  honoured  me,  in  passing,  with  a  couple  of 
random  reflections.  A  kind  of  fatality  seems  to  attend 
these  gentlemen ;  who,  when  I  lie  so  open  to  them,  have 
still  the  luck  to  offer  at  me  in  the  wrong  place. 

In  his  399th  page  he  has  these  words:  "  It  is  .not  of 
"  any  moment  to  enter  further  into  what  philosophers 
"  have  said,  when  they  attempt  to  account  for  the  soul's 
"  eternity.  Common  sense  taught  them,  that  real  proper 
"  punishments  were  inflicted  upon  men  for  sins.  Who 
"  can  read  Plato  s  Gorgias  (which  is  not  ranked  amongst 
"  the  esoterics  by  a  late  Writer,  in  which  alone  the 
"  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments, 
"  he  thinks,  are  [is]  detailed  out) ;  who  can  read  that, 
"  and  conceive  that  Plato  did  not  really  believe  a  state 
"  of  future  punishments  and  rewards?  When  he  had 
"  professed  at  large,  how  wicked  men  are  punished, 
"  and  how  good  men  are  rewarded  in  a  future  state, 
"  he  declares  That  to  be  Ids  full  persuasion.,  and 
"jrom  thence  it  was,  that  he  endeavoured  to  appear 
"  btjore  his  Judge  having  a  most  pure  soul.  And 
"if  they  imagined  men  to  be  punished  for  sin,  and 
"  rewarded  J  or  virtue,  even  supposing  this  was  talked 
"  ol  in  a  way  that  might  be  proved  fabulous,  yet  the 
"doctrine  itself  was  unshaken.  Suppose  the  fables  of 
"  Acheron,  and  Sryv,  and  Cocijtus,  and  Etysian  Fields, 
(t  mav  be  all  demonstrated  to  be  false ;  yet  it  does  not 
*  Arthur  Ashley  Sjkes,  JD.D, 

"  follow, 


1*04  REMARKS  ON    SYKES. 

"  follow,  that  the  tiling  conveyed  under  these  words 
"  \vere  [was]  believed  to  be  all  false.  It  does  not  follow 
"  that  souls  were  believed  to  die,  or  to  be  uneapable  of 
<;  receiving  punishments  or  rewards.:  hut  only  that  this 
"  manner  of  representing  them  is  false."  p.  400. — These 
are  his  words  ;  and  they  deserve  to  be  well  considered. 

It  is  not  of  (iny  moment  (he  says)  to  enter  further 
into  ichat  philosophers  haw  said,  ichen  they  attempt  to 
account  Jar  the  soul'*  KTERXITY.  I  thought  it  of  great 
moment.  I  am  sure  I  found  it  of  great  diiiiculty.  And 
if  I  have  ill  explained  what  the  philosophers  meant  hij 
the  soul's  eternity,  one  reason  \vas,  that  I  wanted  more 
helps  than  antiquity  would  -afford  me.  But  it  is  the 
privilege  of  veteran  disputers,  to  icant  nothing  but  willing 
hearers.  But  why  will  he  enter  -no  further,  wlien  he 
goes  out  of  his  way  to  pay  me  this  visit? 

Because  common  .sense  (he  says)  taught  them,  that  real 
proper  punishment*  zccrc  inflicted  upon  men  for  sins. 
I  have  shewn  iromjact  that  common  sense  did  not  teach 
them.  No  matter :  he  will  prove  from  reason  that  it 
uid.  His  argument  is  plain  and  simple.  Common  sense 
might  teach  them:  therefore  common  sense  did  teach 
them.  This  it  is  to  be  a  practised  disputant.  It  is 
but  knowing  what  common  sense  might  teach,  and 
he  will  presently  tell  you,  by  his  scale  of  logic,  what  it 
did.  By  the  same  way,  1  make  no  doubt,  he  could 
prove  that  the  Epicureans  believed  a  Providence;  the 
Stoics  inequality  of  crimes;  and  the  Pijrrhonians  the 
certainty  of  truth.  lie  has  only  to  shew  that  cowman 
xense  taught  t IK-HI,  or  was  ready  to  teach  them;  and  we 
have  only  to  believe,  that  they  were  as  ready  to  learn.  I 
had  myself  a  kind  of  guess,  that  common  sense,  might 
have  iaitght  the  philosophers  thai  real  proper  punishments 
scere  inflicted  upon  men  jcr  sins]  and  had  I  known  no 
more  of  antiquity  than  this  Writer  has  entered  into,  'tis 
ten  to  one  but  I  had  concluded  as  he  does,  that  eomn.cn 
senxe  did  teach  them.  Though  hardly,  I  think,  after 
another  had  clearly  she^n  the  contrary  from  antiquity. 
However,  the  reader  may  not  be  displeased  to  hear  how 
much  I  gave  to  common  sense  in  the  imroduction  to  my 
discourse  on  the  philosophers.  These  were  my  words  :— ~ 
"  It  will  be  proper  to  premise,  that  the  constitution  of 
6  "  the 


REMARKS  ON   SYKKS.  205 

*  the  Greek  philosophy  bein.£  above  measure  refined  and 
"  speculative,  it  always  used  to  be  determined  by  mcta- 
"  physical  rather  than  moral-  principles ;  and  to  stick  to 
<;  all  consequences,  how  absurd  soever,  that  were  seen  to 
"  arise  from  such  principles.  Of  this  we  have  a  famous 
"  instance  in  the  ancient  dewocritic  philosophy,  H$c. — So 
i:  well  supported,  we  see,  is  that  censure  which  a  ceie- 
"  brated  French  writer  passes  upon  them  :  Whtn  th& 
"  philosophers  once  bewt  themzclccs  with  a  prejudice^ 
"  they  are  crcn  more  incurable  than  the  people  them- 
"  stk'es:  because,  they  hc.sot  themwhes  nat  only  :citti  the 
"prejudice,  but  id  ill  the  fake  rcawii'uig  employed  o 
"  support  it.  The  reverence  and  regard  toWMpkymtft 
"  principles  being  so  grca*.  we  shall  see,  that  the  Greek 
"  philosophers  nr.st  of  necessity. reject  the  doctrine  of  a 
^  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  how  main* 
"  irrcincible.  moral  ar^umc-nts  soever  there,  really  be  in 
"  support  of  it,  when  we  come  to  shew,  that  there  UCIM 
"  two  metaphysical  principles  concerning  God  and  the 
"  soul,  universally  embraced  by  all,  which  necessarily 
"  exclude  all  notion  of  a  future  state  of  reward  and 
u  punishment  *." 

In  the  conclusion  I  repeat  the  same  observation  in  the 
following  words : — "  These  two  errors  in  the  metaphy- 
"  sical  speculations  of  the  philosophers,  concerning  the 
"  nature  of  (Jod  and  of  tiie  soul,  were  what  necessarily 
"  kept  them  from  giving  credit  to  a  doctrine  highly  pro- 
'*  bable  in  itself,  and  rendered  so  even  by  themselves, 
"  from  many  moral  considerations,  perpetually  preached 
"  up  to  the  people.  But,  as  we  observed  before,  it  was 
"  their  ill  fate  to  be  determined,  in  their  opinions,  rather 
"  by  meta]>hijxif:al  than  moral  arguments.  This  is  seen 
"  by  comparing  the  belief  and  conduct  of  SOCRATES • 
<;  \\ith  the  rest.  He  was  sin^-.iUir  in  confining  himself  to 

"  the  studv  of  moruiitii,  and  as  singular  in  bclirchw-  the 
-          ^  o  ™ 

"  doctrine  of  a  iuture  state  of  rewai'd  and  punishment. 
"  What  could  be  the  cause  of  this  latter  singularity  but 
"  the  former?  Of  which  it  was  a  natural  consequence. 
'  For,  having  thrown  aside  all  other  speculations,  he  had 
"  nothing  to  mislead  hi  n.  Whereas  the  rest  of  the 
i(  philosophers  applving  themselves,  with  a  kind  of  taua- 

*  0)iv,-Leg.  Btfokil!,  §4.' 

"  ticism, 


2o6  REMARKS  ON  SYKES. 

*  ticisrn,  to  physics  and  metaphysics,  had  drawn  a  number 
"  of  absurd,  though  subtile  conclusions,  that  directly 
v  opposed  the  consequences  of  those  moral  arguments. 
"  And  as  it  is  common  for  parents  to  be  fondest  of  their 
"  weakest  and  most  deformed  offspring,  so  these  men,  as 
"  we  said,  were  always  more  swayed  by  their  metaphy- 
"  sical  than  moral  conclusions*/'  Now  this  was  all  I 
could,  in  conscience,  allow  to  common  sense,  when  anti 
quity  stood  so  direct' v  in  my  way. 

But  lest  it  should  be  said  he  had  overlooked  all  fact, 
he  has  thought  n't  to  make  the  following  observation : 
Who  can  read  Plato's  Gorgias  (which  is  not  ranked 
amongst  the  esoterics  by  a  late  Writer,  in  which  alone 
the  doctrine  of  a  future  st  at  ecf  rewards  and  punishments, 
he  thinks,  is  detailed  out) ;  who  can  read  that,  and  con 
ceive  that  Plato  did  not  really  believe,  &c.  The  force  of 
this  observation,  the  reader  sees,  lies  in  the  parenthesis, 
that  I  have  not  ranked  the  Gorgias  of  Plato  amongst  his 
ejcot  erics.  But  how,  if  this  be  ialse?  Let  the  following 
words  of  the  Divhie  Legation  determine:  "  It  is  very 
"  true,  that,  in  his  writings,  he  [Plato]  inculcates  the 
"  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments; 
"  but  this  always  in  the  grossest  sense  of  the  populace— 
**  that  the  souls  of  ill  men  descended  into  asses  or  swine — - 
"  that  the  uninitiated  lay  in  mire  and  filth :  that  there 
"were  three  judges  of  Hell;  and  talks  much  of  Styv, 
*e  Cocytm,  Acheron,  &c.  and  all  so  seriously  as  shews  he 
"  had  a  mind  to  be  believed.  But  did  he  himself  believe 
"  them  ?  We  may  be  assured  he  did  not|."  Where,  at 
the  word  seriously,  I  expressly  refer  to  the  GORGIAS, 
Phcedo,  and  Republic.  Now,  if  the  Ph<zdo  and  Republic 
(as  he  will  not  deny)  be  of  the  exoteric  kind,  and  I  place 
the  Gorgias  in  the  same  class,  is  not  this  ranking  the 
Gorgias  amongst  the  esoterics  ?  WThat  then  was  it  that 
could  induce  this  Writer  to  say,  I  had  not  ranked  it 
there?  Was  it  the  following  passage  ?  "  But  Albinus, 
"  an  old  Platonist,  has,  in  some  measure,  supplied  thip 
"  loss  [namely,  the  loss  of  a  treatise  of  Numeniu^ 
"  concerning  the  secret  doctrine  of  Plato]  by  his  Intro- 
"  duction  to  the  Dialogues  of  Plato.  From  whence  it 
"  appears,  that  those  very  books,  in  which  Plato  details 

*  Div.  Leg.  Book  III.  §  4.  t  Ibid.  Book  III.  §  3. 

"  OUt 


REMARKS  ON  SYKES, 

".out  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  reward  and  punish- 
"  ment,  are  all  of  the  esoteric  kind.  For  in  that  class 
"•  Albinus  ranks  the  Criton,  Phcedo,  Minos,  Symposium, 
"  Laws,  Epistles,  Epinomis,  Menexenuj,  Ctiioplwn,  and 
((  Philtbus*?  It  this  were  the  passage,  'tis  plain  the 
Writer  mistook  tiie  latter  part  tor  a  formal  list  of  Plato  $ 
exoteric  writings.  But  the  very  words  might  have  taught 
him  better:  (I  only  say  that  in  that  clem-  Albinus  ranks. 
such  and  such  tracts. N  Especially  if  he  had  looked  into 
the  discourse  referred  to:  where  he  would  have  found 
the  reason  why  I  expressed  myself  in  that  manner.  And, 
J  don't  use  to  w-  itc  at  hazard,  as  htisty  as  he  thinks  rne. 
Albinus,  in  his  fifth  section,  divides  Plato  §  dialogues 
into  classes.  Not  into  the  two  general  ones  of  exoteric 
and  esoteric:  but  into  the  more  minute,  and  different,  of 
natural,  moral,  dialectic,  conjittaiire,  civil,  explorative, 
obstetric,  and  subversive  |.  It  will  be  asked  then,  how 
I  came  to  say,  that  Albinus  ranked  the  Criton,  Phccdo,: 
Minos,  Symposium,  Laws,  Epistles,  Epinomis,  jMcnexe- 
iius,  Clitophon  and  Pfyilebus,  in  the  exoteric  class  ?  For 
this  plain  reason,  he  says  they  were  all  of  the  civil  kinu. 
And  I  hope  I  need  not  tell  the  learned  reader,  that  all  of 
that  kind  were  wot  erica  I.  And  now  it  is  seen  why  I 
might  well  suppose  the  Gorgias  of  the  exoteric  kind  ;  and 
yet,  why  I  could  not  use  Albimts's  authority  for  placing, 
it  with  the  rest:  because  it  is  evidently  of  the  civil  class, 
and  yet  not  ranked  there  by  that  old  PlatonisJt.  The 
reason  of  his  different  assignment  was  this  :  The  Gorgias 
is  a  dialogue  concerning  the  use  and  abuse  of  -rhetoric. 
The  Sophists  had  abused  this  art  to  pervert  public  justice, 
and  to  amass  wealth  and  power.  They  are  here  shevai 
that  its  true  use  was  to  aid  and  inforce  the  laws,  and  to. 
render  the  members  of  a  community  wiser  and  better. 
Hence,  in  conclusion,  the  Author  takes  occasion  to 
inforce  the  practice  of  virtue  from  consideration  of 
future  rewards  and  punishments :  his  usual  manner,  of 
concluding  his  political  discourses;  the  Gorgias  being, 
indeed,  properly  a  supplement  to  the  books~of~Law  arid 

*  ,Piv.  Leg.  Book  III.  §  3. 

'  "•  "f  TCJ  f*lt  (pv&txa, — -TV  $\  r;8iJ»w — ra  $1  Ao/Ixw, —  fa  <5*  IhtfiCUxy,  —  ra  •:•'« 
«roA/]*xw,—»Tw  $\  *rtiMtruupj—rt*  el  fuutvltxi** —tie  <&  ir%i«r}»xw.,  Alb. 
lotrod.  in  Plat.  Dial.  sect.  5.  apud  Fabr.  Bibl,  Onec.  lib.  3.  c.  2. 

Republic: 


REMARKS  ON  SYKES. 

Republic:  'but  it  bein«;  at  the  same  time  altogether  em 
ployed  in  overturning  the  practice  of  the  Soj)/iist$,  \vas,  I 
suppose,  the  reason  \vhy  Albums  thought  it  came  more 
naturally  into  that  class  which  he  calls  mbrcrsrcc.  This. 
is  a  true  account  of  the  (Vuri'vV/.v;  as  welFas  of  my  plain 
sentiments,  concerning  it,  in  the  first  volume  of  The 
Divine  Legation.  And  yet  this  Writer  cries  out,  Hrho 
can  read  the  Gorgias,  mid  conceive  that  Plato  did  net 
realty  believe  a  future  fit  ate  of  rewards  fftid  ptjHisktit&lis? 
Rather,  let  ine  ask,  Who  that  has  read  the  Gorgias,  can 
talk  at  this  rate  ? 

Well,  but  his  reason  :  "  When  he  [Plato]  had  pro- 
<£  fessed  at  large,  how  wicked  men  are  punished,  and  how 
<c  good  men  are  rewarded  in  a  future  state,  he  declares 
"  that  to  be  his  full  persuasion,  and  from  thence  it  teas, 
"  that  he  endeavoured  to  appear  before  his  Judge  having 
"  a  most  pure  soul"  The  original  is,  'Eyu  plv  w,  £ 
TI10  TOTTftN  TON  .  AOrilN 


OTTO;?"     ave^JtvKjUcifci    TJI)    Kpy    wj 

Here,  we  see,  the  Writer  has  sunk  upon  us  the 
important  words  wl  TST&I-  rtav  Xoyw,  upon  which  the 
whole  sentence  turns.  This  could  hardly  be  by 
chance.  The'  reasons  of  the  omission  are  but  too 
evident.  'Eyw  p\v  !k  5  K*xxtx\w,  TOO  TOTTHN  -TUN 
AOmN  TZiKturpzi,  I  am  persuaded  (says  the  speaker) 
O  t  "at  licks,  o  _\  rj-  HE  A  u  T  1  1  o  u  i  T  Y  o  F  T  n  j  :  s  E  D  o  c  in  i  x  i:  s  . 
Say  you  so?  To  understand  then  how  fid  I  the  persua 
sion  was,  we  riitist  .consider  what  credibility  these  doe- 
trivcfi  had.  Now  he  that  reads  the  Gorphw  will  find, 
that  they  consisted  of  a  long  fabulous  account  of  the 
Establishment  of  the  three  judges  af  Hell*  :  and  of  a 
strange  opinion,  that  the  dead  not  only  retained  the  visible 
marks  of  the  passions  and  affections  of  the  soul,  but 
also  the  scars  and  blemishes  of  the  body  f.  It  was  oa 
the  authority,  therefore,  of  these  -goodly  doctrines,  that 
the  speaker  founds  his  belief:  and  what  is  more,  -it  was 
to  these  doctrines  that  tiie  very  words,  in  which  he 
expresses  this  belief,  allude:  'ATrctpawpai  rw.KPITH», 


relating  to  the  infernal  judges',  and  the  TFIESTATHN 
Ttv  fyftv,  the  most  sound  or  healthy  soul,  to  its  affections* 


*  Tom.  I.  p.  523.  Ed.  Serr.—  See  Div.  Leg.  Book  II.  §  4, 
t  Plato,  ut  supiii,  tain.  J.  p.  5-24.--bce  Div.  Leg.  as  a.bove. 

marks, 


REMARKS  ON  SYKES.  209 

marks  and  blemishes.  The  speaker  therefore  must  pf 
course  believe  a  future  state  thus  circumstanced,  if  he 
believed  any  future  state  at  all.  Here  is  no  room  for 
the  Writer's  evasion:  who  supposes  the  philosophers 
might  reject  the  fables  of  Acheron,  and  Styx,  and  Cocy- 
tus,  and  Elysian  Fields,  and  yet  believe  the  thing  con 
veyed  under  these  words.  For  here  the  belief  of  the 
thing  is  expressly  said  to  be  built  on  the  authority  of 
those  /tfZfe :  but  those  fables  our  Author  gives  up  as  not 
really  believed.  By  his  favour  therefore  I  would  conclude 
that  the  thing  built  upon  them  was  not  believed. 

But  as  I  little  thought  this  Writer  would  have  had  the 
better  of  me  on  the  believing  side,  I  will  suppose,  as  he 
does  contrary  to  evidence,  that  the  speaker  did  indeed 
in  this  place  deliver  his  real  sentiments.  Let  us  see  now 
what  will  come  of  it.  He  asks,  Who  can  read  the  Gor- 
gias,  and  conceive,  that  Plato  did  not  really  believe— zcheii 
he  hasprofessedat  large. — So  then ;  the  dispute'  between 
us  is,  Whether "JPiA'TO  believed  a  future  state  of  rewards 
and  punishments  ?  And,  to  prove  that  PLATO  did,  he 
gives  me  a  speech  of  SOCRATES.  For  unluckily  what 
he  quotes  for  the  words  of  Plato  are  the  words  of  his 
master ;  who,  I  have  endeavoured  to  shew,  by  better 
reasons  than  such  a  kind  of  speech,  did  really  believe  a  \ 
future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments. 

But  he  "goes'  on: — And  IF  THEY  IMAGINED  men  to 
be  punished  for  sin,  and  rewarded  for  virtue,  even  sup 
posing  that  this  was  talked  of  in  a  way  that  might  be 
PROVED  fabulous,  yet  the  doctrine  itself  was  unshaken. 
Without  doubt,  if  I  will  allow  they  imagined  a  future 
state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  he  will  prove  they 
believed  one ;  that  beinsj  the  conclusion  he  seems  to  aim 

7  O 

at  in  the  aukward  expression  of — proved  fabulous,  and — 
was  unshaken.  For  the  point  between  us  is  not  about 
what  was  true  or  false,  but  about  what  was  believed  or 
disbelieved.  But  he  himself  seems  dissatisfied  with  his 
expression,  and  therefore  attempts  to  mend  it  in  this 
repetition  (for  it  would  be  hard  that  he  who  begs  his 
question,  should  not  be  able  to  get  to  his  conclusion). 
Suppose  the  fables  of  Acheron,  and  Styx,  and  Cocytus, 
and  Elysian  Fields,  may  be  all  DEMONSTRATED  to  bt 
false,  yet  it  does  not  follow,  that  thcthiiyr  GQJIV wed  under 
VOL.  XL  P  these 


REMARKS  ON  SYKES. 

these  words  icas  believed  to  be  all  false.  Here  again  hii 
words,  demonstrated  to  be' false,  leave  him  just  where  he 
was.  For  .nothing  can  be  concluded  concerning  the 
philosophers  believing  or  not  believing  a  thing,  from  our 
demonstrating  it  to  be  true  or  lake.  His  expression  fails 
him  here  again.  He  therefore  attempts-  it  a  t/iirdtime. 
It  does,  not'  follow,  that  souls  were  Believed  to  die,  or  tfr 
be  uncap ab'le  of  receiving  punishments  or  rewards,  but 
only  that  this  manner  of  representing  them  is  FALSE. 
As  ill' as  ever  !  He  is  still  in  the  very  place  where  he  set 
out.  And  that  which  at  first  so  perplexed  him,  has.  stuck 
by  him  through  all  his  variation  of  phrase — Is  false,  for, 
was  not  beikved.  As  if  the  philosophers  must  needs 
disbelieve  ai)  that  was  false,  and  believe  all  that  was  true. 
And  indeed  it  seems  to  have  been  this  strange  prepos 
session  that  has  made  him  run  into  all  his  confusion  of 
iunpia.ge.  A  disease  that  fatally  infected  the  lawyer  of 
3atev  memory.  I  put  his  expressions  in  the  most  favour 
able 'light.  For  if  there  be  no  blunder,  there  is  much 
malice:  The  period  (supposing  the  words  accurate) 
tending  to  prove  the  credibility  of  a  future  state  of  rewards 
and  punishments ;  which,  being  directed  against  my  dis 
course,  necessarily  insinuates,  that  1  had  wrote  something 
against  that  credibility.  But  I  have  too  good  opinion  oi 
his  honesty,,  to  believe  this  to  be  his  secret  purpose. 

What  therefore  this  Writer  so  fruitlessly  labours  to 
bring  forth,  is  this  simple  conception,  That  the  philoso 
phers  might  believe  tlie  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of 
rewards  and  punishments  in  general,  and  yet  disbelieve 
all  the  particular  fables  of  the  populace  concerning  it 
But*  those  who  are  acquainted  with  antiquity,  will  know, 
tha,t.  this  was.  not,  and  could  not  be  the  case.  I  have 
given,  a  reason  in  the  fir^t  volume*  of  The  Divine 
Legation,  to  shew,  k,  was  not,  in  these  words:  "  We 'have 
"  given. just  above  a  quotation' from  Tullys  oration  for 
<£  fcliLC-ntius, 'intwhich  he  having  ridiculed  the  popular 
''fables  concerning  a  future  state,  subjoins,  If  these  be 
"false,,:a$all  men  see  they  are,  what,  hath  death  deprived 
6i 'us.  of  besides' a  sense  of  pain?  'Nam  hunc  quidein 
"  quid  tandem  illi  mali  mors  attulit  ?  Nisi  forte  ineptii? 
"  qcJ.fabiiUs  ducimur,  ut  existimenaus  ilium  apud  inleros.' 

*  Div.  Leg.  Vol.  III.  pp.  124,  123. 

"  Unpioruna 


REMARKS  ON  SYKES.  an 


"  iinpiorum  supplicia  perferre,  £c.  Qutc'si  folsti 
4t  id  quod  omnes  ihtetttgitnt,  '  yirid  ei  -tandem  alhid 
"  eripuit  prater  scnsuni  dol&ris  ?  From  this  inference  of 
"  Cicero's  it  appears,  that  we  have  not  concluded  amiss, 
**  when,  from  several  quotations,  inter  spei  seel  througho  tit 
"  this  work,  in  which  a  disbelief  of  the  common  -Mion-ofi 
"  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments-  is  implied. 
"  we  have  inferred  the  Writer's  disbelief  of  a  future  -state 
"  of  rewards  and  punishments  in  -'general.  "  There  are 
many  reasons  likewise,  ivhy  it  could  not  be  the,  C(ts&',  too 
long  indeed  to  mention  here;  however,  I  will  just  hint  at 
one.  The  Pagan  notion  of  a.future  state  of  rewards  and 
punishments  was  founded  in  old  tradition  :  hut  that 
tradition,  which  conveyed  down  the  general  doctrine, 
brought  along  these  circumstance*  of  it.  But  I  forget 
that  I  am  arguing  with  an  enemy  to  all  tradition  :  who,  asi 
highly  as  he  advances  the  knowledge  of  the  philosophers,. 
yet  is  unwilling  to  allow  they  were  indebted  for  it  to  arty 
thing  but  their  own  reason.  So  entirely  has  that  childish 
sophism  got  the  better  of  him  :  JFhatsoever  reason  might 
teach,  it  did  teach.  But  how  has  he  made  out  his  point  ? 
By  encountering  a  few  weak  efforts  of  the  Fathers  \\\ 
support  of  traditional  knowledge.  He  has  great  reason 
to  boast  his  victory:  it  is  like  his  who  triumphed  for 
having  tript  up  a  cripple.  But  reverence  for  age  should 
dispose  us  to  spare  the  Fathers,  especially  when  more 
able-bodied  men  stand  in  "our  way.  Till  he  meet  with 
these,  I  would  recommend  the  following  fact  to  his  con 
sideration.  The  more  ancient  philosophers,  in  the  deli 
very  whether  of  their  moral,  natural,  or  theologic  prin 
ciples,  constantly  recommend  them  on  this  footing, 
that  they  received  them  from  TRADITION  :  one  truth 
came  from  a  priest  of  this  religion  ;  and  another  from 
the  sacred  books  of  that.  Scarce  any  thing  is  ever  reprc-  ], 
sented  as  the  deduction  of  their  own  reasoning  :  though 
such  a  representation  had  been  attended  with  much 
honour,  and  we  know  they  were  immoderately  fond  of 
glory.  Now  if  this  were  the  case',,  I  only  fcsk,  fFfry 
we  not  believe  them  ? 


II.  The  Writers  second  remark  begins  thus  :  "  It 
"  been  maintuified  indeed  by  some,  that  all  that  the  old 


2i2  REMARKS  ON  SYKES. 

"  philosophers  held,  was  a  natural  metempsychosis,  or  a 
"•  transition  from  one  body  to  another,  without  any  moral 
"  designation  whatsoever.  But  surely  this  conclusion  is 
"too  hasty:  for  when  it  was  said,  that  the  souls  of  ill 
"  men  descended  into  asses  or  swine,  they  did  not  suppose 
"  the  souls  of  good  men  so  to  descend.  The  souls  of  evil 
"  men,  c.  g.  of  murderers,  went  into  the  bodies  of  beasts, 
"  those  of  lascivious  men  into  the  bodies  of  swine  or 
"goats,  BT&T*.  xoAfeo-ii/,  for.  punishment,  says  Timaus 
"  Locrus.  Was  this  done  for  punishment,  and  yet  was 
"  no  regard  paid  to  the  morals  of  wicked  men  *  ? " 

It  hath  been  maintained  (say §  he)  by  some,  that  the  old 
philosophers  held  only  a  natural  metempsychosis — but 
surely  this  conclusion ,  is  too  hasty.  Who  it  is  that  has 
been  too  hasty,  is  submitted  to  the  judgment  of  the 
public:  whether  I,  in  concluding  from  a  hundred  well- 
weighed  circumstances;  or  her  in  censuring  from  one 
only,  and  that,  as  we  shall  see,  neither  weighed  nor 
understood. 

But-//  is -too  hasty,  FOR  when  it  was  SAID,  that  the 
souls  of  ill  men  descended  into  asses  or  swine,  they  did  not 
suppose  the  souls  of  good  men  so  to  descend.  How  are  we 
to  understand  him?  If  by  SAID  be  only  meant  t aught t 
then,  from  what  they  said  of  the  souls  of  ill  men,  nothing 
can  be  concluded,  concerning  what  they  SUPPOSED  or 
bdie-ced  of  the  souls  of  good  men :  because  it  was  their 
•way  to  say  one  thing  and  suppose  another.  But  if  by 
SAID  .we  ,are  to  understand  supposed  or  believed,  then  I 
will  readily  grant,  that,  if  they  supposed  the  souls  of  ill 
.  •  men  to  descend,  they  did  not  suppose  the  souls  of  good 
men  so  to  descend*  But  why  this  to  me?  Did  /  ever 
sayy  the  old  philosophers  supposed,  that  is,  believed,  that 
t  fie  souls  of  ill  men  descended  into  asses  or  swine  ?  He 
-. ,  would  insinuate  I  did ;  as  appears  not  only  from  his 
address,  but  from  his  plain  allusion  to  the  following  words 
of  my  book:  However,  it  is  true,  that  in  his  writings  he 
[Plato]  inculcates  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of 
reward  and  punishment —that  the  souls  of  ill  men  de 
scended  into  asses  and  swine — did  he  himself  believe  it  ? 
,::  we  may  he  assured  he  did  not]',  &c.  Was  it  from  these 
•;  words-"  he;  gathered;  that  I  held,  Plato  supposed,  what, 

" "  *  Div.  -Legi .Vol.  III.  pp,  78,  79.  f  Ibid.  p.  94. 

I  own, 


REMARKS  ON  SYKES.  213 

I  own,  he  inculcated?  Let  him  look  again,  and  I 
imagine  he  will  alter  his  opinion.  But  he  will  still  say, 
though  /  do  not  hold,  that  the  ancient  philosophers  so 
supposed;  yet,  what  is  more  to  the  purpose,  &\\  ancient 
philosopher  docs. 

For  thus  he 'goes  on :  The  souls  of  evil  men,  e.  g.  of 
murderers,  went  into  the  bodies  of  beasts,  those  of  lasci 
vious  men  into  the  bodies  of  swine  and  GO  ATS,  wo]l  xo'Aao-;^ 
for  punishment,  SAYS  TIM^EUS  LOCRUS,  Was  this  done 
for  punishment,  and  yet  was  no  regard  paid  to  the  morals 
of  wicked  men  ?  This  is  indeed  amazing !  The  reader 
cannot  forget,  that  I  quoted  this  very  passage  at  large  *, 
as  the  most  incontestable  evidence,  that  the  Pythago 
reans  did  not  believe  one  word  of  all  they  taught  con 
cerning  the  souls  of  ill  men  descending  into  the  bodies  of 
brutes  for  punishment ;  Timceus  Locrus  prefacing  the 
relation  of  those  transitions  in  these  very  words  :  For  as 
we  sometimes  cure  the,  body  with  unwholesome  rcmediest 
when  such  as  arc  most  wholesome  have  no  effect,  soAvjj 

RESTRAIN  THOSE    MINDS    BY  FALSE  RELATIONS  which 

will  not  be  persuaded  by  the  true:  there  is  a  necessity 
therefore  of  ins  filling  the  dread  of  those  foreign  torment  $« 
As  that  the  soul  shifts  and  changes  its  habitation]  that 
the  coward  is  thrust  ignominiously  into  a  woman  s form, 
the  murderer  imprisoned  within  thefurr  of  a  savage,  the 
lascivious  condemned  to  animate  a  boar  or  a  sow)  f ,  §c. 
*£lg  y&(>  r<x  trw^ala  po 
uyifi»f1fttoif'  STW  ra?  x 
nxa  jw-Tj  ay/flat  «Aa0£<n 

%ivzi>  wf  HAflxy^vOjUfukv  rav  ^^  TWV  P™  w  if 
crxavfa,  •uro§*  u^ij/  Ex^t^ojuifva'  TWV  ^£  picuQwM  EJ  Sypiuv 
JIOTI  KOAAEIN*  Aa/vwi/  ^',  jj  o-uwv  t}  xaV^wv  jtxa^aV  J. 
Did  Tnmcus  Locrus  then  suppose,  i.  e.  believe, 
the  souls  of  ill  men  descended  into  brutes?  Does  he  not 
expressly  tell  us  he  supposed  they  did  not,  but  that  these 
fables  were  inculcated  in  order  to  restrain  the  populace 
from  vice?  To  tamper  then  with  my  own  evidence, 
and  to  turn  it  against  ihe  in  this  manner*' as  if  nothing 
had  been  said,  is  so  new  a  stroke  in  controversy,  that  we 
have  yet  no  name  for  it ;  but,  on  occasion,  shall  now  be 
able  to  assign  it  a  Patronymic. 
*  Diy,  Leg.  Vol.  HI.  pp.  78, 79.  |  Ibid.  J  DC  Aninia  Mundi,  sub  fin, 

p  3  However, 


214  REMARKS  ON  SYKES. 

/ 

However,  to  do  the  Writer  justice,  I  must  be  so  fair 
to  say,  that  it  may  admit  of  some  doubt,  whether  ever  he 
i*ead  this  passage  in  The  Drc  we  Legation,  or  only  in  the 
Letters  to  Serena,  a  book  that  undergoes  his  censure  in 
the  same  place  where  I  am  so  unhappy  to  incur  it.    I  am 
inclined  to  think  the  latter,  from  this  remarkable  circum 
stance.     The  Author  of  the  Letters  to  Serena  had  trans 
lated  8f  ffuwi/  ij  KAIlPIiN  /wo^aff,  into  tlie  forms  of  mine 
or  GOATS*.    And  so  too  has  this  Writer:  info  the  bodies 
(bays  he)   of  s^cine  0/\  GOATS')',  which  is  so  singular  an 
interpretation,   that,   notwithstanding   the   proverb,  that 
'good  'ivvV.y  jump,    I  can  hardly  think   them  to  be   both 
original.     But  perhaps  that  excellent  correspondent  of 
•Straw's  had   here  a  mind  to  shew  his  learning  ;  and 
knowing,  that  the  Tyrrhenians.,  a  Greek  colony  in  Italy, 
Used  xaTrpge  for  a  goat,  he  would  conclude,  by  analogy, 
''that  the  Locrians,.  another  Greek  colony  in  Italy,  did 
the  same.    Again,  Tmueus  Lccrus  says,  I;  Syfav  <rw/A«1«; 
Tvland,  into  beasts  of  prey.     This  Writer,  into  the  bodies 
if  beasts.     Here,  where  Toland  is  right,  he  leaves  him; 
but  sticks  charitably  by  him  while  he  continues  wrong. 
For  Srpi'uv  signifies  beasts  of  prey  :  and  that  precise  idea 
is  required  to  complete  the  sense;  the  habitation  of  the 
murderer  being  here  spoken  of.     Again,  Thncsus  says, 
\TSQT\  xoXao-t^  which  Toland  faithfully  renders  for  a  pwiish- 
'•went;  and  which  this  Writer  particularly  insists  on,  as 
the  very  cream  of  his  argument  :   murderers  (says  he) 
\\erit  into  the  bodies  of  beasts,  those  of  laserciom  mtn  into 
the  bodies  pfjicine  or  goats,  wol\  *oA*env,  FOR  pu  xi  SH 
IM  K  NT,  says  Timseus  Locrus.     Was  this  done  for  punish  - 
iiiex},  and  yet,  §c.    But  here  I  must  retract  my  sus[)icion; 
for  from  this  last  instance  it  would  seem,  that  ,  lie  had 
read  and  compared  my  translation,  in  which  the  fiyglish 
of  those  formidable  words,  uort  x&ouriv,  is  nr>t  literally  to 
'be  found.     And  now  the  secret  is  out.     He  seems  to 
suppose  I  omitted  them,  as  conscious  of  their  containing 
'some  strange  matter  against  my  general  opinion.     But 
in  truth,  it  was  partly,   because    they  were    redundant; 
Thiueus  representing  the  whole  affair  under  the  general 
idea'  of  a  "pum$hmeyt  ;  and   partly,  because  the  sense  of 
\vas  comprized  in  the  word  imprisoned,  which 


*  Letters  to  Serena,  p.  58.    ,         -J-  P.  402  of  his  Connexions,  &c. 

1  used 


HEM  ARKS  ON  SVKES.  2 1 5 

J  used  in  the  very  case  to  which  those  words  a>re  applied, 
As  to  the  idea  itself,  that  was  so  tar  from  .hurting  my 
argument,  that  it  could  not  do  without  it.  . 

He  goes  on : — They  [the  philosophers]  realty  conceived 
puuisiiinents  and  rewards  of  evil  or  good  actions  in  men;, 
and  #a»w  inwgimd.tt  guumlmmt  by  the  -means  of  trans 
migration,  others  imagined  a  punishment  iti/lict-ed  in 
.Hades,  others  BY  IMMEDIATE  ACTS  OF  PROVIDENCE; 
find  all  supposed  regards  or  punishments,  notwithstanding 
they  might  treat  *w  fables  the  xtori.es  of  Cocytus  .and 
.Acheron  *.  He  sticks  to  his  point,  u  c  see  ;  and  will 
still  have  -it,  that  they  believed  a  hdl,  though  they  treated 
the  stories  of  Cocytm  and  Adicron  as  fables,  w-liich  (to 
tell  hi  mi  nay  >mind  once  for  all)  is  just  as  if  cue  should 
jsay,  some  awaong  us  believe  the  miseries  of  the  lung'a- 
Ikncii  pnsoa,  and  yet  Ireat  the  stones  of  jailors,  turn 
keys,  bailiffs,  and  attorneys,  as  mere  tables.  But  what 
jhavc  immediate  acts  qf  .Proriduicc  to  do  in  tlas  peuicod  ? 
Did  not  I  endeavour  to  .prove,  that  all  .tLe  'ihcisticjal 
jpliilo^oif^hers  believed  a  Providence  in  this  life?  These 
words  therefore,  as  they  a»re  iound  in  a  .paragraph  that 
relates  solely  to  my  peculiar  opinion,  I  can  consider  in 
no  other  light  than  as  a  false  insinuation  ad  iiwidiam* 

I  have*  now  attended  this  Writer  quite  through  his 
little  excursion.  Let  us  see  how  he  returns  to  himself; 
HOWEVER,  what  I^contend for,  is,  that  the  HEATHEN" 
held  a  moral  I  a  future^  state  of  rewards  and  punishments, 
according  to  good  and  evil  done  here  f .  It  is  worthy  his 
contention  ;  and  I  should  be  ready  to  be  his  second  in  it 
But  why  then  should  he  go  out  of  his  way,  and  contend 
for  another  thing,  that  will  do  neither  himself  nor  his 
cause  any  credit?  I  mean  him  honour,  when  I  say  his 
cause:  for  I  really  believe  it  to  be  the  cause  of  Christi 
anity.  Now,  I  conceive  this  not  at  all  advanced  by 
endeavouring  to  shew  that  the  sacred  writers  had  but  Jt  <* 
small  reason  for  their  harsh  censure  of  the  Greek  philo 
sophy  J ;  as  the  contending  .for  its  orthodoxy  in  this  point 
effectively  does.  But  I  will  suppose  the  sacred  writers 
have  been  misunderstood.  And  perhaps  this  may  be  no 
great  reflection  upon  any  partv ;  it  we  consider,  that  the 
Janscnists,  scarce  inferior  to  .-my  in  their  talents  of  rea- 
*  Connexions,  <Scc.  p.  402.  f  Ibid.  %  Div.  Leg.  Book  III.  §  4. 

p  4  soiling 


3i6  REMARKS  ON  SYKES. 

soning  and  criticism,  have  strangely  mistaken  those  cen-* 
surcs,  while  they  understood  them  to  be  directed  against 
human  science  in  general.  I  supposed  therefore,  that, 
to  shew  the  sacred  writers  only  censured  the  Greek  phi 
losophy,  and  that  it  deserved  their  censure,  was  not  one 
of  the  least  services  one  might  render  to  our  holy  religion. 
But  the  occasion  now  seems  to  be  more  urgent.  The  pre 
tensions  of  these  philosophers  have  been  of  late  highly  ad 
vanced.  The  author  of  the  book,  intitled,  Future  Rewards 
and. Punishments  believed  by  the.  Ancients,  hath,  we  see, 
forced  the  inspired  teachers  of  mankind  to  give  them  the 
right  hand  of  fellowship.  I  had  exposed  their  profane  and 
Tain  babblings  in  one  capital  instance,  because  it  came  di 
rectly  into  my  particular  design ;  as  well  for  that  I  thought 
it  useful  to  Revelation  in  general.  I  did  not  then  indeed 
imagine  the  necessity  so  pressing.  I  may  hereafter  per 
haps  find  occasion  to  examine  these  spurious  rivals  of 
the  Apostolic  function  on  every  head  of  morality  and 
religion,  in  the  manner  I  have  already  done  on  one ;  and 
fully  vindicate  the  majesty  of  Sacred  Writ  in  the  just 
sentence  it  hath  passed  upon  them. 


[    217    3 


A 

LETTER 

TO    THE'  ttlGHT    REVfcllEND 

DR,  RICHARD  SMALLEROOK, 

LORD    BISHOP    OF    L1CII  FIELD   AND    COVENTRY. 


MY   LORD, 

THIS  trouble  is  occasioned  by  a  passage  in  your 
Lordship's  late  printed  Charge  *  to  your  Clergy,  in  which 
you  have  been  pleased  to  censure  me  by  name  with  some 
frankness,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  with  equal  injustice. 

The  regard  due  to  your  Lordship's  Order,  especially 
while  in  discharge  of  your  function,  would  have  certainly 
restrained  me  from  complaining  of  aught  that  was  a 
mere  declaration  of  your  Lordship's  dislike  of  my  Writ 
ings.  It  is  your  Lordship's  right  and  duty  to  warn  your 
Clergy  against  all  ill  books:  and  your  Lordship  is,  in 
that  place  and  on  that  occasion,  an  authorized  denouncer 
of  what  are  so.  Had  your  Lordship  therefore  only  said, 
that  The  Divine  Legation  was  a  very  bad  book,  I  had 
not  attempted,  by  any  address  of  this  nature,  to  disturb 
you  in  the  quiet  possession  of  your  opinion.  But  when 
a  reason  added  to  that  declaration  turns  your  vague  cen 
sure  into  a  formal  accusation,  then,  my  Lord,  it  becomes 
equally  my  right  and  duty  to  defend  my  character,  if 
I  find  it  mistaken. 

To  put  the  public  therefore  (which  your  Lordship  has 
forced  me  to  appeal  to)  in  possession  of  the  fact,  it  will 
be  necessary  to  go  so  tar  back  as  to  tell  them  what  it  is 
your  Lordship  says  you  propose  to  make  the  subject  of 

*  Printed  in  1741,  by  J.  &  P.  Knapton,  Octavo. 

your 


ai  8  LETTER  TO 

your  Charge.  It  is  (in  your  own  words)  to  lay  before 
your  Clergy  some  reasons,  draicn  from  the  Christian 
Revelation  itself,  which  evince  the  pretensions  of  morality 
antecedently  to  divine  Revelation,  to  be  earned  much  too 
high,  and  vindicate  the  Christian  Faith,  as  well  as 
J\  lor  alii y,  from  those  INVIDIOUS  INSINUATIONS  that 
have  been  CAST  upon  them  by  SEVERAL  LATE 
WIUTEUS,  WHO  ''icili  occasionally  be  ANIMADVERTED 
upon  in  the  following  Discourse,  p.  2. 

Your  Lordship  having  gone  through  your  Reasons, 
comes,  in  page  24,  to  draw  .your  inferences  from  them. 
The   second  of  which,  you  tell   us,   is,  "  That  though 
4'  Christian  Morality  is  much  superior  to  that  of  all  other 
"  religions,  yet  it  does  not  of  itself  (that  is,  abstractedly 
"  from  the  facts  recorded  in  the  Gospel,  with  which  it  is 
•"  incorporated)  evince  the  truth,   though  it  does  most 
•tc  clearly  the  excellency  of  the  Christian  Religion.     It  is 
/'certain  (says  your  Lordship)  that  the  reasonableness 
u  and  sanctity  of  the  moral  precepts  of  the  Gospel  give 
"  great  advantages  to  Christianity,  as  compared  with  any 
li  other  religion  ancient  or  modern.     And  this  of  itself  is 
"  sufficient  to  give  a  well-disposed  mind  very  favourable 
"  thoughts  of  the  Christian  Religion,  and  to  induce  it  to 
/'make  farther  enquiries  into  the  truth  of  those  facts 
'•  which  establish  its  divine  authority.    And  this  is  as  far 
"  as  the  argument  needs  to  be  pushed ;  and  in  fact  it  is 
'"  as  far  as  one  of  the  best  modern  Apologists  for  the 
'"truth  of  Christianity,   the   most  learned   Grothis,   in 
"  concurrence  with  the  principal  Apologists  amongst  the 
"  Ancients,   and   more   especially  the   famous   Origcn, 
'"  thought  .fit  to  urge  it.     It  is  clear  that  they  thought 
"  themselves  obliged  only  to  shew,  that  the  morality  qj 
<c  the  Gospel  docs  vastly  excel  that  of  all  other  religious 
**  and  'moral  institutions,  and  is  most  .worthy  of  God  in 
"  all  respects.     But  neither  they  nor  any  other  thought- 
i%  ful  persons,  that  have  formerly  engaged  on  this  subject 
*'  (as  lar  as  I  can  recollect)  have  thought  it  reasonable  to 
4i  lay  so  great  a  stress  on  the  excellency  ot  the  morals  ot 
4 'the  -Gospel,  considered  distinctly  from  \\wfacts  of  the 
**  Gospel,  and  in  their  own  nature  vsolelv,  as  necessarily 
10  "to 


BISHOP  SMALLBROOK. 

.**  to  infer  from  thence  the  certainty  of  the  Christian  Re- 
"  vclation.  And  much  less  have  they  asserted,  a£  has 
"been  done  by  some  LATE  WRITERS,  that  the  morality 
"  of  the  Gospel,  which  they  call  the  Internal  evidence 'of 
."  it  (though  indeed  it  has  not  the  nature  of  evidence 
"  properly  so  *:aiic;l),  is  the  strongest  evidence  of  the 
"tiuth  or  Christianity,  and  is  highly  superior  to  all  its 
"  external  c\:uie?ice,  that  is,  the  evidence  which  arises 
"from  ihcj-tficts  recorded  in  tne  Gospel,  and  attended 
"  with  other  attestations  of  ancient  writers,  which  support 
"  its  divine  authority."  Tins  is  all  from  your  Lord- 
ship;  where  at  the  word  WRIT  tits  we  find  a  mark  of 
reference  to  the  following  Note — See  Mr.  Arscot's  Con 
siderations  on  the  Christian  Religion,  pp.  10.  51,  ,59, 
60,  &c.  Part  II.  p.  £3.  Part  III.  and  elsewhere.  SEE 
too  MR.  WAR  BURTON'S  DIVINE  LEGATION  OF  MOSES, 
&c.  pp.  i,  2,  3,  4,  5*- 

So  that  here,  my  Lord,  I  find  this  proposition  affirmed, 
That  Mr.  Jl'arburton,  in  his  Daunt  Legation  of  Moses, 
&c.  pp.  i,  2, ;],  4,  5,  has  asserted  THAT  THE  MORALITY 

OF  THE  GOSPEL,  WHICH  HE  CALLS  THE  INTERNAL  EVI 
DENCE  OF  IT,  IS  THE  STRONGEST  EVIDENCE  OF  THE 

TRUTH  OF  CHRISTIANITY,  AND  is  HIGHLY  SUPERIOR 

TO  ALL  ITS  EXTERNAL  EVIDENCE. 

This,  my  Lord,  is  your  accusation;  a  very  capital  one 
it  is;  and  such  as,  if  true,  would  prove  me  devoid  of 
common  sense,  as  well  as  in  all  other  respects  unworthy 
the  character  I  bear  of  a  Christian,  a  clergyman,  or  a 
defender  of  Revelation.  I  am  therefore  necessitated  to 
call  upon  your  Lordship,  in  this  public  manner,  either  to 
make  it  good,  or  to  give  me  reparation.  Your  Lordship 
confines  the  proof  of  your  accusation  to  the  first,  second, 
third,  fourth,  and  fifth  pages  of  the  First  Volume  of  The 
J)irhic  Legation.  JJut  as  I  am  not  disposed  to  chicane 
in  so  serious  a  matter,  I  hereby  promise,  that  if  either  in 
those  pages,  or  in  any  other  pages  of  that  work,  or  in  any 
thing  I  have  ever  written,  preached,  or  said,  your  Lord 
ship  produces  the  proposition  in  question  as  held  and 
maintained  by  me,  either  in  express  terms,  or.  deduciblo 
*  Vol.  I.  pp.  193,  tScc. 


220      LETTER  TO  BP.  SMALLERQOK. 

by  fair  and  logical  consequence,  I  promise,  I  say,  to 
submit  to  any  censure  your  Lordship's  self  shall  think  fit 
to  inflict.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  you  can  produce  no 
such  proposition,  1  shall  then  expect  so  much  from  your 
Lordships's  justice  as  to  "retract  your  accusation  in  the 
same  public  manner  you  have  been  pleased  to  ad 
vance  it 

I  am,  Jl/y  LORD, 

Your  LORDSHIP'S 

Most  Obedient  Servant, 
Nov.  17, 1741.  \V.  WARBURTOX. 


REMARKS 

ox 
SEVERAL  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS-, 

IN    ANSWER    TO 

The  Rev,  Dr.  MIBDLETON, 

Dr.  POCOCKE, 

The  MASTER  of  The  Charter  Hotise, 
Dr.  RICHARD  GREY, 

AND  OTHERS; 
Serving  to  explain  and  justify  divers  Passages,  ia 

«  THE'  DIVINE  LEGATION," 
Objected  to  by  those  Learned  Writers. 

To  which  is  added,  A  GENERAL  REVIEW  of  the  ARGUMENT 
of  The  Divine  Legation,  as  far  as  is  yet  advanced :  wherein 
is  considered  the  Relation  the  several  Parts  bear  to  each 
other,  and  te  the  Whole. 

Together  with  An  APPENDIX,  in  answer  to  a  late  Pamphlet, 
entitled,  An  Examination  of  Mr.  W — 's  Second  Proposition. 


IN  TWO  PARTS— PART  L 


Quid  imnu'rcnles  hospitcs  vrxa?,  Canis, 

Ignaviis  adversum  Ltipos? 
Kara,  qualis  aut  Molossus,  ant  fulvus  Lacon, 

AMIGA  vis  PASTORIBUS, 
Again  per  altas  aure  iublata  nives, 

Quaeeunque  praecedet  Fera. 
Tu  quum  timenda  voce  complesti  Xerau?, 

Projectum  oderaris  CIBUM. 


CONTENTS; 

PREFACE  to  PART  I. 
REMARKS,  &c.  Sec.  i.  to  Sec.  5. 

APPENDIX:  containing  the  Judgments  of  GHOTHJS,  Ena- 
COPUS,  and  Bishop  BULL  ;  shewing,  that  a  Future  State  oi 
Hewards  and  Punishments  was  not  taught  to  the  Ji;v,s  by  the 
Law  and  Religion  of  MOSES. 

POSTSCRIPT. 


PREFACE 


TO 


REMARKS  ON  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS 
«  PART    I. 


IN  the  Prefatory  Discourse  to  the  First  Volume  ȣ 
the  D.  L.  I  spoke  pretty  largely  of  the  use  of  ridicule,  in 
religious  subjects ;  as  the  abuse  of  it  is  amongst  the 
fashionable  arts  of  free-thinking  :  For  which  I  have  been 
just  now  called  to  account,  without  any  ceremony,  by 
the  nameless  Author  of  a  Poem  intiiled,  The  Pleasure^ 
of  Imagination.  For  'tis  my  fortune  to  be  still  concerned 
with  those  who  either  do  go  masked,  or  those  who  should, 
I  am  a  plain  man,  and  on  my  first  appearance  in  this  way, 
I  told  my  name,  and  who  I  belonged  to.  After  this,  if 
men  will  rudely  come  upon  me  in  disguise,  they  can  have 
no  reason  to  complain,  that  (in  my  ignorance  of  thei? 
characters)  I  treat  them  all  alike  upon  the  'same  free 
footing  they  have  put  themselves. 

This  gentleman,  a  follower  of  Ld.  S.  and,  as  it  should 
seem,  .one  of  those  to  whom  that  Preface  was  addressed ; 
certainly,  one  of  those  to  whom  I  applied  the  words  of 
Tully,  non  decet,  non  datum  est;  who  affect  wit  and 
raillery  on  subjects  not  meet,  and  with  talents  unequal ; 
this  Gentleman,  I  say,  in  the  i();>th  and  io6th  pages  of 
his  Poem,  animadverts  upon  me  in  the  following  manner; 

Since  it  is  (says  he)  beyond  all  contradict ion  evident, 
that  we  have  a  natural  setise  or  feeling  of  the  ridiculous, 
and  since  so  good  a  reason  may  be  assigned  to  justify  the 
Supreme  Being  for  bestowing  it;  one  cannot  without 
astonishment  rejlect  on  the  conduct  of  those  men  who- 
imagine  it  for  the  service  of  true  religion  to  'vilify  and 
blacken  it  without  (list  faction,  and  endeavour  to  persuade 
•us  that  it  is  never  applied  but  in  a  bad  cause.  The 
reason  here  given,  to  shew,  that  ridici(!e  and  bujfoinry 


rrmy 


224  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I 

may  be  properly  employed  on  serious  and  even  sacred 
subjects,  is  admirable :  it  is,  because  we  have  a  natural 
sense  or  feeling  of  the  ridiculous,  and  because  no  sensa 
tion  was  given  us  in  vai/r,  which  would  serve  just  as  well 
to  excuse  adultery  or  incest.  For  have  we  not  as  natural 
a  seme  or  feeling  of  the  voluptuous?  And  was  it  not 
given  for  as  good  purposes?  But  he  will  say,  it  has  its 
proper  objects.  And  does  he  think,  I  will  not  say  the 
same  of  his  sense  of  ridicule  ?  For  he  strctch'd  a  point, 
when  he  told  the  reader  I  vilified  and  blacken  d  it  with 
out  distinction.  The  thing  I  there  opposed,  was  only, 
an  extravagant  disposition  to  unseasonable  mirth  *.  The 
abusive  way  of  icit  and  raillery  on  serious  subject  s"\. 
With  as  little  truth  could  he  say,  that  /  endeavoured  to 
persuade  the  public  that  it  is  never  applied  but  in  a  bad 
cause:  For,  in  that  very  place,  I  apologized  for  an 
eminent  writer  who  had  applied  it  to  a  good  one  J. 

But,  in  the  next  words,  if  he  means  by,  is  not,  ought 
not  to  be,  he  gives  me  up  all  I  want.  Ridicule  (says  he) 
is  not  concerned  iciih  mere  speculative  truth  or  Jatshood. 
Certainly.  And,  for  that  very  reason,  I  would  exclude  it 
from  those  subjects.  What  need?  He  will  say,  For 
when  was  it  so  employed  ?  Hold  a  little.  Was  it  not 
concerned  with  mere  speculative  truth,  when  his  master 
ridiculed  the  subject  of  Mr.  Locke's  Essay  of  Human 
Understanding,  in  the  manner  mentioned  in  my  Pre 
face  §?  Was  it  not  so  concerned  too,  when  the  same 
noble  person  ridiculed  Revelation,  in  the  merry  Story  of 
the  travelling  Gentlemen,  who  put  a  wrong  bias  on  their 
reason  in  order  to  believe  right  |(? — Unless,  by  mere 
speculative  truths,  he  means,  truths  of  no  use :  and  for 
all  such,  he  has  my  free  leave  to  treat  them  as  he  pleases. 
He  has  shewn,  by  his  Poem,  they  are  no  improper 
subject  for  his  talents. 

He  goes  on,  It  Is  not  in  abstract  propositions  or  theo 
rems,  but  in  actiom  and  passions,  good  and  evil,  beauty 
and  deformity,  that  zee  jind  materials  for  it ;  and  all 
these  terms  are  relative,  implying  approbation  or  blame. 
The  reason  here  given,  why,  not  abstract  propositions,  &c. 

*  Div.  Leg.  Vol.  I.  Ded.  p.  147,  £c.  f  Ibid.  p.  150. 

J  Jhid.  p..  M4  &  seq.          §  Ibid.  p.  164,  Note  (||). 
|i  Char.  II.  Yoi«  III.  Misc.  <z.  c.  3.  p.  99* 

but 


Pref.]        OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       225 

but  actions  and  passions,  &c.  are  the  subject  of  ridicule, 
is,  because  these  latter  are  relative  terms  implying  appro 
bation  and  blame.     But   are   not  the   former  as  much 
relative  terms,  implying  assent  and  denial?     And  does 
not  an  absurd  proposition  as  frequently  afford  materials 
for  ridicule  as  an  absurd  action  ?     Let  the  reader  deter 
mine  by  what  he  finds  before  him.     To  ask  then,  (says 
he)  whether  ridicule  be  a  test  of  truth,  is,  in  other  words, 
to  ash  whether  that  which  is  ridiculous  can  be  morally 
trice-,  can  be  just  and  becoming ;  or  whether  that  which 
is  just  and  becoming  can  be  ridiculous.     A  question  that 
does  not  deserve  a  serious  answer.     Why  then  did'  he  put 
it  ?     For  it  is  of  nobody's  ashing  but  his  own.    However, 
in  civility  to  his  master,  or  rather  indeed  to  his  master's 
masters,  the  ancient  sophists,  who,  we  are  told  *  in  the 
Characteristics,  said  something  very  like  it,  I  shall  shew  it 
deserves  a  very  serious  answer.     For  how,  I  pray,  comes 
it  to  pass,  that  to  ask  whether  ridicule  be  a  test  of  truth 9 
is  the  same  thing  as  to  ask  whether  that  which  is  ridicu 
lous  can  be  morally  true?     As  it*  whatever  ridicule  was 
applied  to,  as  a  test,  must  needs  be  ridiculous.     Might 
not  one  ask,  Whether  the  copel '\  be  a  test  oj  gold,  with 
out  incurring  the  absurdity  of  questioning  whether  the 
matter  of  the  copel  was  not  standard  gold?     What  was 
the  man  dreaming  of?     That  a  test  of  truth,    and  a 
detection  of  falsehood,  were  one  and  the  same  thing  ?  or 
that  it  was  the  practice  to  bring  nothing  to  the  test  but 
what  was   known,    beforehand,  whether  it  was  true  or 
false  ?     His  master  seems  much  better  versed  in  the  use 
of  things.     He  says  J,   Now,  wliat  rule  or  measure  is 
there  in  the  world,  except  in  considering  the  real  temper 
of  things,  to  find  which   are  truly  serious,  and  which 
ridiculous?   And  how  can  this  be  done,  unless  by  applying 
the  ridicule  TO  s  E E  WH  ETHER  i T  WILL  B  EAR? 

*  'Tzi'as  the  saying  of  an  ancient  S'jgc,  that  humour  was  the  only  test 
of  ridicule.  Vol.  I.  p.  74. 

f  I  chuse  this  instance  of  the  refiner's  copel,  because  the  English 
for  it,  which  is  Italian,  is  test ;  from  whence  the  latter  word  was 
metaphorically  used  to  signify  all  kinds  of  sure  trial.  This  was 
proper  to  observe,  as  our  Poet  seems  not  to  know  the  meaning  of 
the  word. 

|  Char,  Vol.  I.  p.  12. 

VOL,  XL  Q  But 


226  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Parti. 

But  if  the  reader  be  curious  to  see  to  the  bottom  of 

this  affair,  we  must  go  a  little  deeper.     Lord  S ,  we 

find,  was  willing  to  know,  as  every  honest  man  would, 
whether   those    things,    which    had    the   appearance   of 
seriousness  and  sanctity,  were  indeed  what  they  appeared. 
The  plain  way  of  coming  to  this  knowledge  had  been 
hitherto  by  the  test  of  reason.    But  this  was  too  long  and 
too  slow  a  progress  for  so  sublime  a  genius.     He  would 
go  a  shorter  and  a  quicker  way  to  work,  and   do  the 
business  by  ridicule,  given  us,  as  his  disciple  tells  us,  for 
this  very  end,  to  end  the  tardy  steps  of  reason,     This- 
therefore  the  noble  Author  would  needs  apply,  to  see 
whether  these  appearances  icon  Id  bear  the  touch.     Now 
it  was  this  ingenious  expedient,  which  I  thought  I  had 
cause  to  object  to.    For  when  you  have  applied  this  touch, 
and  that,  to  which  it  is  applied,  is  found  to  bear  it,  what 
reparation  will  you  make  to  truth,  for  the  ridiculous  light 
in  which  you  have  placed  her,  in  order  only,  as  you  pre 
tend,  to  judge  right  of  her?     O,  for  that,  says  his  Lord 
ship,  she  has   the  amends   in   her  own  hands:  let  her 
railley  again;  for  ichy  should  fair  honesty  be  denied  tlte 
use  of  this  weapon*?     To  this  so  wanton  a  liberty  with 
sacred  truth,  I  thought  I  had  many  good    reasons  to 
oppose;  and  so,   it  seems,  thought  our  Poet  likewise: 
and  therefore  he  endeavours  to  excuse  his  master,  by 
putting  another  sense  on  the  application  of  ridicule  as  a 
test,  which  supposes  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  the  thing 
tried,  to  be  already  known.     But  the  shift  is  unlucky ; 
for  while  it  covers  his  master,  it  exposes  himself.     For 
now  it  may  be  asked,  what  need  of  ridicule  at  all,  after 
the  truth  is  known ;  since  you  make  its  sole  use  to  consist 
in  the  discovery  of  the  true  state  of  things  ? 

But  the  odd  fortune  of  our  Poet's  pen  makes  the  plea 
sant  part  of  the  story.  Here,  we  see,  where  he  aims  to 
make  an  absurd  proposition,  for  the  use  of  others,  it 
proves  a  reasonable  one :  'Tis  odds  but  xver  find  him, 
before  we  have  done,  trying  to  make  a  reasonable  one, 
for  his  own  use,  that  turns  out  at  last  an  absurdity. 

But  let  us  come  to  the  philosophy  of.  his  criticism  :  Foil 
it  is  most  evident,  that  as  in  a  metaphysical  proposition 

*  Char.  Vol.  I.  p.  128. 


Pref.]         OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       227 

offered  to  the  understanding  for  its  assent,  the  faculty  of 
reason  examines  the  terms  of  the  proposition ;  andjindmg 
one  idea,  which  was  supposed  equal  to  another,  to  be  in 
fact  unequal,  of  consequence  rejects  tlie  proposition  as  a 
falsehood :  so  in  objects  offered  to  tJie  mind  for  its  esteem 
or  applause,  the  faculty  of  ridicule  feeling  an  incongruity 
in  the  claim,  urges  the  mind  to  reject  it  with  laughter 
and  contempt.  And  now,  how  does  this  sublime  account, 
of  reason  and  ridicule,  prove  the  foregoing  proposition 
to  he  absurd?  Just  as  much,  I  suppose,  as  the  height 
of  St.  Paul's  proves  Grant  ham  steeple  to  stand  awry. 
I,  for  my  part,  can  collect  nothing  from  it,  unless  it  be 
that  the  Poet  thought  metaphysical  propositions  were  the 
only  proper  objects  of  the  understanding's  assent,  and 
the  reasons  examination. 

However,  if  it  cannot  prove  what  precedes,  he  will 
try  to  make  it  infer  what  follows  :  When  THEREFORE 
(says  he)  we  observe  suck  a  claim  obtruded  upon  mankind, 
and  the  inconsistent  circumstances  carefully  concealed 
from  the  eye  of  the  public,  it  is  our  business,  if  the  matter 
be  of  importance  to  society,  to  drag  out  those  latent  cir 
cumstances,  and,  bij  setting  them  full  in  view,  convince 
the  ico rid  how  ridiculous  the  claim  is  ;  and  thus  a  double 
advantage  is  gained ;  for  ice  both  detect  the  moral  false 
hood  sooner  them  in  the  way  of  speculative  inquiry,  and 
impress  the  minds  of  men  with  a  stronger  sense  of  the 
vanity  and  error  of  its  authors.  And  this,  am!  no  more^ 
is  meant  by  the  application  of  ridicule.  A  little  more,  if 
we  may  believe  his  master:  who  says,  it  is  not  only  to 
detect  error,  but  to  try  truth,  that  is,  in  his  own  expres 
sion,  to  see  wliether  it  will  bear.  But  why  all  this  ado ; 

«/  * 

for  now,  we  see,  nobody  mistook  what  was  meant  by  the 
application  of  ridicule,  but  himself — As  to  what  he  said 
before,  that  when  objects  are  offered  to  the  mind  for  its 
esteem  and  applause,  the  faculty  of  ridicule,  feeling  an 
incongruity  in  the  claim,  urges  the  mind  to  reject  it  with 
laughter  and  contempt ;  it  is  so  expressed,  as  if  he  in 
tended  it  not  for  the  description  of  the  use,  but  the 
essence  of  ridicule.  Whereas  the  dealers  in  this  trash 
frequently  urge  the  mind  to  reject  many  things  with 
laughter  and  contempt,  withoutjeeling  any  other  incon- 

Q  2  grwty, 


228  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL''      [Parti 

gruity,    than  in   their    own    pretensions   to   truth   and 
honesty.     And  this  our  Poet  very  well  knows. 

For  now  he  conies  to  the  point.  But  it  Is  said  ths 
practice,  is  dangerous,  and  may  be  inconsistent  with  the 
regard  we  owe  to  objects  of  real  dignity  and  excellence. 
I  answer,  the  practice  FAIRLY  MANAGED,  can  never  be 
dangerous.  An  answer  which  has  only .  taught  me  to 
reply,  that  the  use  of  stillettos  and  poisons,  fairly  ma 
naged,  can  never  he  dangerous.  And  yet  all  wise  states> 
for  the  security  of  its  members,  when  any  of  them  have 
shewn  a  violent  propensity  to  these  things,  have  ever 
forbidden  their  promiscuous  use  and  sale. 

However,  he  allows  at  length,  that  men  may  be  dis 
honest  in  obtrudmg  circumstances  foreign  to  the  object ; 
and  we  may  be  inadvertent  in  allowing  those  circumstances 
to  impose  upon  us*,  but— but  what?    Why  the  SENSE  OF 
RIDICULE  ALWAYS  JUDGES  RIGHT.     And,  he  had  told 
us  before,  that  this  is  a  natural  seme,  and  bestowed  upon 
us  by  the  Supreme  Being,  to  aid  our  tardy  steps  in  pursuit 
of  reason.     Why,  as  he  says,  who  can  withstand  this ? 
Nothing   can  be  clearer!     Writers  may  be  dishonest; 
readers  may  be  imposed  on ;  the  public  may  be  misled  ; 
and  men  may  judge  wrong.     But  what  then,  the  sense  of 
ridicule  always  judges  right.     And  while  we  can  support 
our  Platonic  republic  of  ideas,  what  signifies  what  be 
comes  of  the  Jleccs  Romuli,  the  actions  of  the  people? 
And  so  again  it  is,  we  see,  in  the  use  of  poisons :  though 
men  may  be  dishonest  in  obtruding  them,  and  we  may  be 
inadvertent  enough  to  suffer  them  to  impose  upon  us ;  yet 
what  then?     The  efficacy  of  poison  is  without  malice; 
and  does  but  do  its  kind  ;  is  a  natural  power,  and  be 
stowed  upon  us  by  the  Supreme  Being,  to  aid  our  tardy 
steps  in  pursuit  of  vermin. — In  truth,  one  would  imagine, 
by  so  extraordinary  an  argument,  that  the  question  was 
not,  of  the  injury  to  society  by  the  abuse  of  ridicule,  but 
of  the  injury  to  ridicule  itself. 

But  let  us  hear  him  out :  The  Socrates  of  Aristophanes 
is  as  truly  ridiculous  a  character  as  ever  was  drawn. 
True  ;  but  it  is  not  the  character  vf  Socrates,  the  divine 
moralist,  and  father  of  ancient  wisdom.  Indeed! — But 
then,  if,  like  the  true  Sosia,  in  the  other  comedy,  he  must 
3  bear 


Pref.]       OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.        229 

bear  the  blows  of  his  fictitious  brother,  what  signifies 
it  to  injured  virtue,  to  tell  us?  that  lie  did  not  deserve 
them  ? 

JFhat  then?  (says  he)  did  the  ridicule  of  the  Poet 
hinder  the  philosopher  from  detecting  and  disclaiming 
those  foreign  circumstances  which  he  had  falsely  intro 
duced  into  his  character,  and  thus  rendering  the  Satirist 

O 

doubly  ridiculous  in  Ins  turn.  See  here  again  !  all  his 
concern,  we  find,  is,  lest  good  raillery  should  be  beat  at 
its  own  weapons.  No,  indeed,  I  cannot  see  how  it  could 
possibly  hinder  the  philosopher  from  detecting  and  dis- 
claiming.  But  this  it  did,  which  surely  deserves  a  little 
-reflection,  it  hindered  the  people  from  seeing  what  he  had 
detected  and  disclaimed — A  mighty  consolation,  truly,  to 
expiring  virtue,  that  he  disclaimed  the  fool's  coat  they  had 
put  upon  him  ;  though  it  stuck  to  him  like  a  sambenito ; 
and  at  last  brought  him  to  his  execution. 

But  wiiat  is  the  sacrifice  of  a  Socrates  now  and  then, 
to  secure  ihcjrce  use  of  that  inestimable  blessing,  buf- 
foonry  ?  So  thinks  our  Poet ;  when  all  the  answer  he 
gives  to  so  natural,  so  compassionate  an  objection  as 
this,  No:  but  it  nevertheless  had  an  ill  influence  on  the, 
minds  of  the  people,  is  telling  us  a  story  of  the  Atheist 
Spinoza ;  while  the  godlike  Socrates  is  left  neglected,  and 
ia  the  hands  of  his  judges ;  whither  ridicule,  this  noble 
guide  of  truth,  had  safely  brought  him. 

But  let  us  hear  the  concluding  answer  which  the 
respectable  Spinoza  is  employed  to  illustrate. — And  so 
(says  he)  has  the  reasoning  of  Spinoza  made  many 
Atheists ;  he  has  founded  it  indeed  on  suppositions  utterly 
false ;  but  allow  him  these,  and  Ids  conclusions  are  un 
avoidably  true.  And  if  ice  must  reject  the  use  of  ridicule 
because,  by  the  imposition  of  false  circumstances,  things 
may  be  made  to  seem  ridiculous,  which  are  not  so  in  them- 
selves ;  why  we  ought  not  in  the  same  manner  to  reject  the 
use  of  reason,  because,  by  proceeding  on  false  principks, 
conclusions  will  appear  true  which  are  impossible  in 
nature,  let  the  vehement  and  obstinate  declaimers 
against  ridicule  determine. 

Nay,  we  dare  trust  it  with  any  one;  whose  com 
mon  sense  is  not  all  turned  to  taste.  What !  Because 

Q  HE  A  SON 


230  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  I. 

RE  A  sox,  the  guide  of  life,  the  support  of  religion,  the 
investigator  of  truth,  must  be  still  used  though  it  be  con 
tinually  subject  to  abuse;  therefore  RIIMCUI.F,  the 
paltry  buffoon  of  reason,  must  have  the  same  indulgence! 
Because  akiivjniust  be  intrusted  with  government,  though 
he  may  misuse  his  power ;  therefore  the  king's  fool  shall 
be  suffered  to  play  the  madman1  But  upon  what  footing 
standeth  this  extraordinary  claim  ?  \\  by,  we  have  a 
natural  sense  of  the  ridiculous  ;  and  the  ridiculous  has  a 
natural  feeling  of  tlie  incongruous ;  and  then — u  ho  can 
forbear  laughing?  If  to  this,  you  add  taste,  beauty, 
deformity,  moral  sense,  moral  rectitude,  moral  falsehood, 
you  have  then,  I  think,  the  whole  theory  of  the  ridiculous. 
But  I  can  teil  him  of  a  plain  English  proverb  worth  all 
his  modisli  ideas  of  beauty  and  virtue  put  together,  and 
that  is,  TO  BE  MF.IIRY  AND  WISE.  Which  concerns  him 
nearer  than  one  may  think.  For  who  would  imagine, 
that,  while  he  was  supporting  ridicule  from  the  charge  of 
(tbiiftc,  he  should  be  supplying  his  adversary  with  a  fresh 
and  id  a  grant  exception  to  his  own  plea?  iSot  indeed, 
that  the  comment  disgraced  the  text ;  or  that  there  was 
much  incongruitu  in  pleading  for  a  fault  he  had  just  then 

O  »>  ^O  J 

committed.  But  so  it,is,  kind  reader,  that,  where  he  is 
marshalling  the  several  classes  of  folly  in  human  life,  he 
places  the  whole  body  of  the  Christian  Clergy  in  the 
first  and  foremost :  amongst  those,  .  \vho,  he  tells  us, 
assume  some  desirable  quality  or  possession  ichich  evidently 
does  not  belong  to  them  *. 

"  Others,  of  graver  mien,  behojo1 ;  adorn'd 
"  With  holy  ensigns]  how  sublime  they  move, 
"  And,  bending  oft  their  sanctimonious  eyes, 
"  Take  homage  of  the  simple-minded  throng, 
"  AMBASSADORS  of  Ileavcnf." 

And  well  do  they  deserve  his  moral  ridicule,  supposing 
them  to  be  drawn  like.  For,  if  I  understand  any  thing 
of  his  colouring,  the  features  are,  pride,  hypocrisy,  fraud, 
and  imposture.  I  call  it  an  insult  on  the  whole  body  of 
the  Clergy,  because  I  know  oi  no  part  of  them  who  hold 
that  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel  (or,  as  St.  Paul  calls  it, 
*  P.  49.  f  P.  96. 

tf 


Pref.]       OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.        231 

cf  reconciliation}  teas  given  them  by  the  religion  of 
Christ^  but  hold  likewise,  with  the  same  Apostle  (who 
speaks  of  himself  here  as  a  simple  minister  of  the 
Gospel)  that  they  are  AMBASSADORS  for  Christ*.— 
But  let  it  go  like  what  it  is,  a  poor  pitiful  joke  of  his 
master's '}%  and  spoil'd  too  in  the  telling.  The  dulness 
of  the  ridicule  will  sufficiently  atone  for  the  abuse  of  it. 
And  I  may  rind  time  to  call  the  great  man  of  taste  him 
self  to  account,  for  his  so  frequent  and  ill-employed 
'raillery  against  KELIGIOX. 

*  -2  Cor.  v.  23,  rf  Char.  Vol.  III.  p.  336.     Third  edit. 


232  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 


R  E  M  A  R  K  S, 


PART    I. 

THE  state  of  Authorship,  whatever  that  of  Nature 
be,  is  certainly  a  state  of  war  :  in  which,  especially 
if  it  be  an  holy  tear,  every  man's  hand  is  set,  not  against 
his  enemy,  but  his  brother.  But  as  these  furious  fight 
ing  men  are  generally  as  much  mistaken  in  the  use  of 
their  arms,  as  in  the  objects  of  their  resentments,  there  is 
seldom  any  great  harm  done.  I  speak  for  myself.  I 
have  found  none.  And  indeed  no  wonder.  I  have  been 
all  the  while  very  much  out  of  the  question.  For  my 
Answerers  write  not  so  properly  agalmt  me,  as  J'or 
something  they  like  better  than  me.  This,  for  his  dear 
orthodoxy ;  that,  for  his  dearer  philosophers;  a  third, 
for  his  lawyers;  a  fourth,  for  his  Cuba  lists;  a  fifth,  for 
himself;  and  a  sixth  for,  I  don't  know  what,  besides  the 
pure  love  of  scribbling*.  So  that  I  have  been  now,  for 
some  time,  only  a  silent  looker-on;  to  see  how  the 
public  and  they  would  get  acquainted.  I  have  given 
them  full  liberty  to  try  what  they  can  make  of  it,  or  It  of 
them  :  and  wish  them  better  luck  with  their  readers 
intellects  than  I  have  had  with  theirs.  For,  from  the 
first  to  the  last  of  them,  their  constant  cry  has  been, 
They  do  not  understand  me.  Now,  though  I  can  allow 
this  to  be  a  better  reason  for  their  writing  at  me  than  any 
they  have  hitherto  assigned;  yet  it  would  be  a  very  bad 
one  for  my  answering  them  ;  because  it  would  keep  me 
engaged  till  they  did  understand  me;  which  I  presume  no 
gentle  reader  would  think  a  reasonable  task  for  one  born 
when  human  life  is  at  the  shortest.  When  therefore  I 
took  my  last  leave  of  the  whole  tribe,  in  the  person  of 
their  great  exemplar  and  archetype,  the  learned  Advocate 
*  Webster,  Tillurd,  \V**,  Bate,  Morgan,  Bott. 


Sect,  i.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       233 

of  Pagan  Philosophy,  I  engaged,  that  if  any  writers  more 
equal  to  the  subject  should  come  abroad,  1  would  return 
their  civility  and  fair  argument  in  such  sort  as  that  the 
world  should  see  I  esteemed  every  sincere  inquirer  after 
truth  rather  as  a  friend  to  the  public  than  an  enemy  to 
myself.  Since  that  time,  the  misfortune  I  had  of  differ 
ing  in  opinion  from  some  writers  of  great  merit  and 
learning  has  been  the  disagreeable  occasion  of  reminding 
jne  of  my  promise. 

Section  i. 
[See  Divine  Legation,  Book  iv.  §  6.  sub.jfinJ] 

OF  these,  the  first  place  would  be  due  to  my  very 
learned  friend,  the  Author  of  the  elegant  and  useful 
Letter  from  Rome  ;  who,  taking  entirely  to  himself  what 
was  meant  in  general  of  the  numerous  writers  on  the 
same  subject,  and  the  more  numerous  followers  of  the 
same  hypothesis,  hath  done  a*  notion  of  mine  the  honour 
of  his  confutation,  in  a  Postscript  to  that  Letter.  But 
the  same  friendly  considerations,  which  induced  him  to 
end  the  Postscript  with  declaring  his  unwillingness  to 
enter  further  into  controversy  with  me,  have  disposed  me 
not  to  enter  into  it  at  all.  This,  and  neither  any  neglect 
of  him,  nor  any  force  I  apprehend  in  his  arguments,  have 
kept  me  silent.  In  the  mean  time,  I  owe  so  much  both 
to  myself  and  the  public,  as  to  take  notice  of  a  misrepre 
sentation  of  my  argument ;  and  a  change  of  the  question 
in  dispute  between  us:  without  which  notice,  the  con 
troversy  (as  I  agree  to  leave  it  in  his  hands)  could  scarce 
receive  an  equitable  decision.  The  misrepresentation  I 
speak  of  is  in  these  words :  "He  [the  Author  of  the 
"  D.  L.]  allows  that  the  writers,  who  have  undertaken  to 
"  deduce  the  rights  of  Popery  from  Paganism,  have 
"  shewn  an  exact  and  surprising  likeness  between  then* 
"  in  a  great  variety  of  instances.  This  (says  he)  one 
"  would  think,  is  allowing  every  thing  that  the  cause 
"  demands  :  it  is  every  thing,  I  dare  say,  that  those 
"  writers  desire  |."  That  it  is  every  thing  those  writers 
desire,  I  can  easily  believe,  since  I  see  my  learned  friend 
himself  hath  taken  it  for  granted,  that  these  two  asseiv 
*  Div.  Leg.  lib,  iv,  §  6.  fub,fin.  f  Postscript,  p,  228. 

tions 


234  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  I. 

lions,  i  The  religion  of  the  present  Romans  derived  from 
that  of  their  heathen  ancestors',  and  2.  An  e.ract  con 
formity  or  unifonmty  rather  of  worship  between  Popery 
find  Paganism,  are  convertible  propositions.  For,  un 
dertaking,  as  his  title  page  informs  us,  to  prove,  the 
religion  of  the  present  Romans  derived jrom  that  qj  their 
heathen  ancestors;  and  having  gone  through  his  argu 
ments,  he  concludes  them  in  these  words,  "  But  it  is  high 
<£  time  for  me  to  conclude,  being  persuaded,  if  I  do  not 
"  flatter  myself  too  much,  that  I  have  sufficiently  made 

*''  gOOd  WHAT  I   FIRST  UNDERTOOK  TO  PROVE,  »n  exact 

'''  conformity  or  uniformity  rather  of  worship  between 
"  Popery  and  Paganism  *."  But  what  he  undertook  to 
prove,  we  see,  was,  The  religion  of  the  present  Romans 
derived  from  their  heathen  ancestors.  That  I  have, 
therefore,  as  my  learned  friend  observes,  allowed  every 
thing  those  writers  desire ',  is  very  likely.  But  then, 
whether  I  have  allowed  every  thing  that  the  cause 
demands,  is  another  question.  Which  I  think  can  never 
be  determined  in  the  affirmative,  till  it  be  shewn  that  no 
other  probable  cause  can  be  assigned  of  this  exact 
conformity  between  Papists  and  Pagans,  but  a  borrowing 
or  derivation  j'rom  one  to  the  other.  And  I  guess,  this 
is  not  now  ever  likely  to  be  done,  since  I  myself  have 
actually  assigned  another  probable  cause,  namely,  the  same 
spirit  of  superstition  operating  in  equal  circumstances* 

But  this  justly  celebrated  writer  goes  on—"  This  ques- 
£:  tion,  according  to  his  [the  Author  of  The  Divine 
(i  Legation]  notion,  is  not  to  be  decided  by  facts,  but 
:c  by  a  principle  of  a  different  kind,  a  superior  knowledge 
"  of  human  nature^"  Here  I  am  forced  to  complain  of 
a  want  of  candour,  a  want  not  natural  to  my  learned 
friend.  For,  whence  is  it,  I  would  ask,  that  he  collects, 
that>  according  to  my  notion,  this  question  is  not  to  be 
decided  by  facts,  but  a  superior  knowledge  of  human 
•nature  ?  From  any  thing  I  have  said  ?  Or  from  any 
thing  I  have  omitted  to  say  ?  Surely,  not  from  any  thing 
I  have  said  (though  he  seems  to  insinuate  so  much  by 
patting  the  words  a  superior  knowledge  of  human  nature 
in  Italic  characters,  as  they  are  called)  because  I  leave 
him  in  possession  of  his  facts,  and  give  them  all  their 
*  Letter,  p.  224.  t  Postscript,  p.  228. 

full 


Sect,  i.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.      235 

full  validity;  which  he  himself  observes;  and,  from 
thence,  as  we  see,  endeavours  to  draw  some  advantage  to 
his  hypotiiesis  :  nor  from  any  thing  I  have  omitted  to 
say,  for,  in  the  short  paragraph  \\ here  I  delivered  my 
opinion,  and,  by  reason  of  its  evidence,  offered  but  one 
single  argument  in  its  support,  that  argument  arises  from 
a  supposed  FACT,  viz.  that  the  superstitious  customs  in 
question  icere  many  ages  later  than  the  conversion  of  the 
imperial  city  to  the  Christian  faith:  whence  I  concluded 
that  the  ruling  churchmen  could  have  no  motive  in  borrow 
ing  from  Pagan  customs,  either  as  they  were  then  fashion 
able  in  themselves,  or  respectable  for  the  number  or 
quality  of  their  followers.  The  supposition  I  could  easily 
convert  into  a  proof  ]  were  I  not  restrained  by  the  consi 
derations  before  spoken  of.  And  what  makes  this  the 
more  extraordinary  is,  that  my  learned  friend  himself 
immediately  afterwards  quotes  these  words;  and  then 
tells  the  reader  that  the  argument  consists  of  an  HJSTO- 
TORICAL  FACT  and  of  a  consiijuence  deduced  from  it. 
It  appears  therefore,  that,  according  to  my  notion,  the 
question  is  to  be  decided  byjacts,  and  not  by  a  superior 
kfif.'ic/edgc  of  Int man  nature.  Yet  J  must  confess  I  then 
thought,  and  do  so  still,  that  a  superior  knowledge  of 
human  nature  would  do  no  harm,  as  it  might  enable  men 
to  judge  butter  of  facts  than  we  generally  find  them 
accustomed  to  do.  But  will  this  excuse  a  candid  repre- 
senter  for  saying,  that  the  question,  according  to  my 
notion,  teas  not  to  be  decided  by  facts,  but  a  superior 
knowledge  of  human  nature  ?  However,  to  do  my  learned 
friend  all  justice,  I  must  needs  say,  that,  as  if  these  were 
only  words  of  course,  or  words  of  controversy,  he  goes 
on,  through  the  body  of  his  Postscript,  to  invalidate  my 
argument  from  fact ;  and  we  hear  no  more  of  a  superior 
knowledge  of  human  nature  than  in  this  place  where  it 
was  brought  in  to  be  laughed  at. 

As  to  the  argument,  it  must  even  shift  for  itself.  It 
has  done  more  mischief  already  than  I  was  aware  of: 
and  forced  my  learned  friend  to  extend  his  charge  from 
the  moaern  to  the  ancient  church  of  Rome.  Tor  my 
argument,  from  the  low  birth  of  the  superstitions  iu 
question,  coming  against  his  hypothesis  alter  he  had  once 
and  again  declared  the  purpose  of  his  Letter  to  be  the 

exposing 


•236  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

exposing  the  heathenish  idolatry  and  superstition  of  the 
present  church  of  Rome ;  he  \vas  obliged,  in  support  of 
that  hypothesis,  to  shew  that  even  the  early  ages  of  the 
church  were  not  free  from  the  injection.  Which  hath 
now  quite  shifted  the  subject  with  the  scene,  and  will 
make  the  argument  of  his  piece  from  henceforth  to  run 
thus,  The  religion  of  the.  present  Romans  derived  ji '< .-m 
ihelr  early  Christian  ancestors ;  ami  theirs,  jrom  ike 
neighbouring  Pagans.  To  speak  freely,  my  reasoning 
(which  was  an  argument  ad  hominem,  and,  as  such,  1 
thought  would  have  been  reverenced)  reduced  the  learned 
writer  to  this  dilemma  ;  either  to  allow  the  fact,  and  give 
tip  his  hypothesis ;  or  to  deny  the  fact,  and  change  his 
question.  And  he  has  chosen  the  latter  as  the  lesser 
evil.  For  a  simple  question  is  but  like  a  wife  to  wrangle 
with;  and  when  we  lose  one  we  easily  find  another. 
But  the  hypothesis  begot  upon  it  is  of  the  nature  of  one's 
offspring,  whose  loss  perhaps  is  irreparable.  1  find, 
however,  his  Lincoln  s-Lm  Advocate  never  thought  him 
wedded  to  his  question ;  for  he  takes  the  change  of  it, 
like  the  change  of  a  mistress,  for  politeness',  and  has 
accused  me  not  only  of  ill-breeding,  but  of  contradiction, 
because  I  would  not  change  it  too.  I  had  shewn,  in  my 
Jlrst  volume  of  The  Divine  Legation,  that  the  ancient 
Christians  of  Greece  had  borrowed  several  forms  of 
speech  from  the  Pagan  mysteries :  and  in  my  second,  I  had 
denied  that  the  modern  Christians  of  Rome  had  borrowed 
several  forms  of  worship  from  the  Pagan  ritual.  On 
which,  our  Advocate,  catching  me  at  this  advantage, 
thus  candidly  expostulates  with  me.  Titus  the  SAME 
FACT,  when  it  tends  to  prove  a  part  of  a  Javouritc 
hyfyoth&ist  is  in  your  hands  notoriously  true ;  but  it  is  no 
sooner  made  use  of  by  the  ingenious  author  so  often  men- 
tioned[Di\  M.J  than  it  proves  to  be  an  utter  mistake*. 
And  again,  the  DIFFERENT  OPINIONS  which  on  different 
occasions  you  have  entertained  of  this  matter,  may  serve 
to  teach  its,  $c.  §c.  page  50.  But  let  rne  assure  this 
writer,  that  when  I  spoke  of  the  ancients  borrowing  words 
from  the  Pagan  mysteries,  I  no  more  meant  the  moderns 
borrowing  rites  from  their  open  worship,  than,  \vhenf  I 

*'  Letter  from  a  Gentleman  of  Lincoln's-Inn;  p.  55. 
t  Div.  Leg.  Appendix  to  Book  III. 

spoke. 


Sect.  2.]     OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       237 

spoke  of  Answerers  by  profession,  I  meant  Lawyers  by 
profession ;  who,  without  flattering  them,  I  may  say, 
deserve  as  little  the  character  there  given  of  the  said 
answerers  as  I  do  the  calumnies  here  bestowed  by  this 
fatter-writer. 

But  his  charge  of  contradiction  was  excusable.  The 
Doctor  had  led  him  up  to  the  primitive  church,  and  there 
he  found  me ;  and  there  he  supposed  I  had  always  been : 
and  seeing  me  not  quite  conformable  to  the  Doctor's 
decisions,  he  would  quarrel  with  me  for  a  schismatic. 
But  I  can  easily  overlook  this  (that  he  took  upon  trust, 
as  he  did  his  Greek)  for  the  sake  of  so  charitable  an 
office  as  the  teaching  me  how  to  write ;  which  he  kindly 
professes  to  be  the  whole  purpose  of  his  Letter. 

My  learned  friend  will  excuse  my  speaking  thus  much 
of  a  controversy  which  he  knows,  from  the  time  of  the 
first  publication  of  his  Postscript,  I  had  intended  not  to 
keep  up.  But  thus  much  was  necessary  to  state  it  truly, 
and  to  hold  it  fairly  on  the  foot  whereon  he  first  placed 
it,  and  I  had  left  it.  As  to  the  subject  itself,  so  curious 
and  interesting,  if  ever  I  should  be  disposed  to  treat  it 
at  large,  as  possibly  I  may,  I  would  chuse  to  do  it  in 
thesi,  and  not  in  prosecution  of  any  particular  con 
troversy. 

Section  2. 
[See  Divine  Legation,  Book  iv.  §  4.] 

THE  first  writer  I  am  concerned  with  is  the  Reverend 
Dr.  Richard  Pococke :  who,  in  his  late  Book  of  Travels, 
hath  a  Chapter  on  the  ancient  Hieroglyphics  of  the 
Egyptians,  wherein,  in  opposition  to  my  account  of  the 
nature  of  that  kind  of  writing,  he  expressed!  himself  as 
follows — u  If  hieroglyphical  figures-  stood  for  words  or 
:'  sounds  that  signified  certain  things,  the  power  of 
"  hieroglyphics  seems  to  be  the  same  as  of  a  number  of 
ec  letters  composing  such  a  sound,  that  by  agreement  was 
"  made  to  signify  such  a  thing.  For  hieroglyphics,  as 
"  words,  seem  to  have  stoocl  for  sounds,  and  sounds 
"  signify  things ;  as  for  instance,  it  might  have  been 
"  agreed  that  the  figure  of  a  crocodile  might  stand  for 
"  the  sound  that  meant  what  we  call  malice":  the  children 

"of 


2;]8        REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL      [Part  L 

"  of  the  priests  were  early  taught  that  the  figure  of  a 
"  crocodile  stood  for  such  a  sound,  and,  if  they  did  not 
"  know  the  meaning  of  the  sound,  it  would  certainly 
"  stand  with  them  ior  a  sound;  though,  as  the  sound, 
"  it  signified  also  a  quality  or  thing;  and  they  might 
"  afterwards  he  taught  the  meaning  of  this  sound; "as 
"  words  are  only  sounds,  which  sounds  we  agree  shall 
"  signiiy  such  and  such  things  ;  so  that,  to  children, 
"  words  only  stand  for  sounds,  which  relate  to  such 
"  things  as  they  know  nothing  of;  and,  in  this  sense,  we 
"  say  children  learn  many  things  like  parrots,  what  they 
"  do  not  understand,  and  their  memories  are  exercised 
"  only  about  sounds,  till  they  are  instructed  in  the 
"  meaning  of  the  words.  This  I  thought  it  might  be 
"  proper  to  observe,  as  some  say  hieroglyphics  stood  for 
"  things  and  not  for  words,  if  sounds  articulated  in  a 
"  certain  manner  are  words.  And  though  it  may  be 
"  said,  that  in  this  case,  when  different  nations,  of  dif- 
*'  ferent  languages,  agree  on  common  characters,  that 
"  stand  for  certain  things  they  agree  on,  that  then  such 
"  figures  stand  for  things :  this  will  be  allowed ;  but 
"  then  they  stand  for  sounds  too,  that  is,  the  sounds  in 
"  each  language  that  signify  such  things  :  and,  as  ob- 
"served  before,  to  children,  who  know  nothing  of  the 
"  several  things  they  stand  for ;  to  them  they  are  only 
"marks  that  express  such  and  such  sounds:  so  that 
"  these  figures  stand  not  for  things  alone,  but  as  words, 
"  for  sounds  and  things  *.'* 

The  design  of  this  passage,  the  reader  sees,  is  to 
oppose  the  principle  I  went  upon,  in  explaining  the 
Egyptian  hieroglyphics,  That  they  stood  for  things,  and 
not  for  words.  But  that  is  all  he  sees  ;  for  the  obscure 
expression,  arising  from  a  confusion  of  ideas,  will  not 
suffer  one  to  do  more  than  guess  at  the  proof  he  aims  at ; 
which  seems  to  be  this — That  hieroglyphics  cannot  be 
said  to  stand  for  things  only ;  because  things  being  de 
noted  by  words  or  sounds ;  and  hieroglyphics  exciting 
the  idea  of  sounds  (which  are  the  notes  of  things),  as  well 
as  the  idea  of  the  things  themselves,  hieroglyphics  stand 
both  for  sounds  and  things. — This  seems  to  be  his 
argument,  put  into  intelligible  language.  But,  for  fear 

*  Pag,  228;  2-20,  of  a  Book  iutitled,  A  Description  of  the  East,  &c. 

o£ 


Sect.  2.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       239 

of  mistaking  him,   let  us  confine  ourselves  to  his  own 
words. 

If  iiieroglypkical  figures  (says  he)  stood  for  words  or 
sounds  that  signified  certain  things,  the  power  of  hiero 
glyphics  seems  to  be  the  same  as  of  a  number  of  letters 
composing  such  a  sound  that  by  agreement  was  made  to 
signify  such  a  thing.  Without  doubt,  if  hieroglyphics 
stood  for  sounds,  they  were  of  the  nature  &i  words,  which 
stand  for  sounds.  Hut  this  is  only  an  hypothetical  pro 
position  :  let  us  see  therefore  how  he  proves  it. 

FOR  hieroglyphics,  AS  WORDS,  seem  to  have  stood  for 
sounds,  and  sounds  signify  things ;  as  for  instance,  it 
MIGHT  have  been  agreed  that  t/ic  Jigure  of  a-  crocodile 
MIGHT  stand  for  the  same  sound  that  meant  what  we 
call  malice.  The  propriety  of  the  expression  is  as  re 
markable  as  the  force  of  the  reasoning,  i.  Instead  of 
saying,  but  hieroglyphics,  he  says,  for  hieroglyphics ; 
which  not  expressing  an  illation,  but  implying  a  reason, 
obscures  the  argument  he  would  illustrate.  2.  He  says, 
hieroglyphics,  as  words,  seem  to  hai'e  stood  for  scundx* 
Just  before  he  said,  hieroglyphics  stood  for  words  on 
sounds.  Here  they  are  AS  words,  or,  like  words,  and 
seem  to  stand  ion  sound.  What  must  we  stiek  to  ?  are 
words  sound?  or,  do  they  stand  for  sound?  He  has 
given  us  both  to  chuse  of.  But  it  is  n't  himself  should 
chuse  first :  which  not  having  yet  done,  wre  go  on, 
3.  Lastly,  to  complete  all,  he  corroborates  this  seeming 
truth  by  an  instance  in  which  the  possibility  of  its  standing 
for  a  sound  is  made  a  proof  of  the  Hktlihood  of  its  so 
doing;  //  MIGHT  (says  he)  have  been  agreed  that  the 
figure  cf  a  crocodile  MIGHT  stand,  §c. 

But  he  makes  amends  for  his  former  diffidence  in  what 
follows.  The  children  cf  the  pritsis  were  early  taught 
that  the  Jigure  of  a  crocodile  stood  for  such  a  sound,  and 
if  they  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  sound,  it  would 
certainly  stand  with  them  for  a  sound.  This  indeed  is 
an  anecdote.  But  where  did  he  learn  that  these  children, 
before  they  could  decipher  the  sounds  of  their  own  lan 
guage,  were  taught  hieroglyphics?  Till  now,  hierogly 
phics  were  understood  to  be  reserved  for  those  instructed 
in  their  secret  and  mysterious  science.  But  let  us  sup 
pose  that  they  were  taught  to  children  amongst  their 

first 


240  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  I. 

first  elements :  yet  even  here,  as  we  shall  see  from  the 
nature  of  the  thing,  they  could  never  stand  as  marks  for 
words  or  sounds.  When  a  child  is  taught  the  power  of 
letters,  he  learns  that  those  letters,  that  compose  the  word 
malice,  for  instance,  express  the  sound:  which,  naturally 
arising  from  a  combination  of  the  several  powers  of  each 
letter,  shews  him  that  the  letters  stand  for  such  a  sound 
or  word.  But  when  he  is  taught  that  the  figure  or 
picture  of  a  crocodile  signifies  malice,  he  as  naturally  and 
necessarily  conceives  (though  he  knows  not  the  meaning 
of  the  word)  that  it  stands  for  some  thing  signified  by 
that  word,  and  not  for  a  sound :  because  there  is  no 
natural  connexion  between  jigure  and  a  sound,  as  there 
is  bet  ween  Jigure  and  a  thing.  And  the  only  reason  why 
the  word  malice  intervenes,  in  this  connexion,  is  because 
of  the  necessity  of  the  use  of  words  to  distinguish  things, 
and  rank  them  into  sorts.  But  the  veriest  child  could 
never  be  so  childish  as  to  conceive  that  when  he  was  told 
the  figure  of  a  beast  with  four  legs  and  a  long  tail  signified 
malice,  that.it  signified  the  sound  si  malice;  anymore 
ttan  if  he  were  told  it  signified  a  crocodile,  that  it  sig 
nified  the  sound  of  the  word  crocodile.  The  truth  is,  the 
ignorant  often  mistake  words  for  things,  but  never  things 
for  words.  The  former  is  so  true,  that  they  frequently 
take  the  name  of  a  thing  for  its  nature ;  and  rest  contented 
in  the  knowledge  which  that  gives  them.  I  remember  a 
country  fellow  staring  at  the  picture  of  an  elephant,  a 
thing  he  had  never  seen  before,  asked  his  friend  who 
stood  by,  What  it  was  ?  and,  on  his  answering,  that  it 
was  the  great  Czar,  inquired  no  further,  but  went  away 
well  satisfied  in  his  acquaintance  with  the  strange  beast. 
Yet  I  apprehend  he  did  not  understand  his  informer  to 
mean  that  it  signified  only  the  sound  of  that  word.  But 
perhaps  our  Author  will  say,  the  cases  are  different ; 
that  the  elephant  was  a  mere  picture,  and  the  crocodile 
a  sign  or  mark.  But  I  have  proved  at  large  that  the 
ancient  Egyptian  hieroglyphics  were  at  first  mere  pic 
tures;  and  that  all  the  alteration  they  received,  in 
becoming  marks,  was  only  the  having  their  general  use  of 
conveying  knowledge  rendered  more  extensive  and  ex 
peditious. 

To 


Sect.  2.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS. 

To  proceed  ;  our  Author  considers  next  what  he  appre 
hends  may  be  thought  an  objection  to  his  opinion,  And 
though  (says  he)  it  men/  be  said  that,  in  this  case,  where 
different  nations  oj  different  Ian® 'uages  agree  on  common 
characters,  that  stand  for  certain  things  they  agree  on, 
that  then  such  Jig> ires  stand  j or  things.     To  which  he 
answers,  This  wilt  be  allowed,   but  then  they  stand  for 
sounds  too,  that  is,  the  sounds  in  each   language  that 
signify  such  things.     lie  who  can  allozv  this,  and  without 
injury  to  his  cause,  need  be  under  no  fear  of  ever  giving 
his  adversary  advantages.     We  may  expect  to  hear  him 
say  next,  when  disputing  about  the  colour  of  an  object — 
that  it  is  black,  will  be  allowed ;   but  then  it  is  white  too. 
For  a  mark  for  things  can  no  more  be  a  mark  for  sounds, 
than  black  can  be  while.     The  reason  is  the  same  in 
both;    the  one  property  excludes   the    other:    thus,  if 
hieroglyphic  marks  stand  for  things,   and  are  used  as 
common  characters  by  various  nations  differing  in  speech 
and   language,  they  cannot  stand   for   sounds ;   because 
these  men  express  the  same  thing  by  different  sounds; 
unless,  to  remove  this  difficulty,   he  will  go  farther,  and 
say,  not,  as  he  did  before,  that  one  hieroglyphic  icord  (to 
use  his  own  language)  stood  for  one  sound,   but,  that  it 
stands  for  an  hundred.     Again,  if  hieroglyphic  marks 
stand  for  sounds,  they  cannot  stand  for  things:  not  for 
those  things  which  are  not  signified  by  such  sounds;  this 
himself  will    allow :  nor  yet,  I   affirm,   for  those  which 
are;  because  it  is  the  sound  that    stands  for  the  thing 
signified  by  the  sound,  and  not  the  hieroglyphic  mark. 
But  all  this  mistake  proceeded  from  another  as  gross* 
though  less  glaring,   namely,  that  words  stand  both  for 
sounds  and  things,  which  we  now  come  to.     For  he  con 
cludes   thus,  So   that  these  jigures   (viz.  hieroglyphics') 
stand  not  for  things  alone,  but,  as  zi-ortis,  for  sounds  and 
things.      An    unhappy  illustration !    which   has  all    the 
defects,   both  in  point  of  sense  and  expression,  that  a 
proposition  can  well  have.     For  if,  by  words,  he  meant 
articulated  sounds,  then  the  expression  is  nonsense,  as 
affirming,  that  sounds  stand   for  sounds.     And  that  hi 
meant  so  is   possible,  because,  in  the  beginning  of  th* 
passage  quoted,  he  uses  words  for  articulate  sounds— 
Hieroglyphics,  says  he,  stood  for  words, on  £cu%uk.     But 

i.  it 


242  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  I. 

if,  by  wordy,  he  meant  letters  (and  that  he  might  mean 
so,  is  possible  likewise,  for  he  presently  afterwards  uses 
wordy  in  that  sense  too — Hieroglyphics  ay  words,  says 
he,  seem  to  have  .stood  for  sounds)  then  the  proposition  is 
only  false;  the  plain  truth  being  this,  Letters  stand  for 
sounds  only ;  which  sounds  they  naturally  produce ;  as 
sounds  arbitrarily  denote  things. 

But  to  he  a  little  more  particular ;  as  in  this  distinction 

lies  the  judgment  which  is  to  be  made,  if  ever  it  be  rightly 

*  ,~  .  " 

made,  of  the  controversy  between  us.     All  this  confusion 

of  counter-reasoning  proceeds,  as  we  observed  before, 
first,  from  not  reflecting  that  letter*,  which  stand  for 
words,  and  hieroglyphic*  which  stand  for  things,  have 
not  an  arbitrary  but  natural  designation.  For  as  the 
powers  of  letters  naturally  produce  words  or  sounds,  so 
the  figures  of  hieroglyphics  naturally  signify  things : 
cither  more  simply,  when  they  express  substances ;  or 
more  artificially,  when  they  denote  modes;  yet  in  neither 
case  arbitrarily:  but  by  representation  in  the  first,  and 
by  analogy  in  the  last.  Secondly,  from  his  not  consider 
ing,  that  as  we  cannot  think  nor  converse  about  things 
cither  accurately  or  intelligibly  without  iwrds,  so  their 
intervention  becomes  necessary  in  explaining  the  marks 
of  things,  lint  therefore,  to  make  hkwglyphics  th$ 
marks  of  sounds,  because  sounds  accompany  things^ 
would  be  as  absurd  as  to  make  letters  the  marks  oj 
things,  because  things  accompany  sounds.  And,  who 
ever  (besides our  Author) said  that  letters  signified  things 
as  well  as  sounds?  unless  he  had  a  mind  to  confound  all 
human  meaning.  If  he  chose  to  instruct,  or  even  to  be 
understood,  he  would  say,  that  letters  naturally  produced 
sounds  or  words ;  and  that  words  arbitrarily  denoted 
things :  and  had  our  Author  spoken  the  same  intelligible 
language,  and  told  us  that  hieroglyphics  naturally  ex 
pressed  things,  and  that  things  were  arbitrarily  denoted 
by  words,  he  would  indeed  have  spared  both  of  us  tho 
present  trouble,  but  then  he  had  said  nothing  new.  But 
it  is  possible  he  might  be  led  into  his  conclusion  by  mis 
taking,  for  Egyptian,  a  ridiculous  kind  of  rebus-writing 
more  ridiculously  called  hieroglyphics,  the  senseless 
amusement  of  our  idle  people,  in  which,  indeed;  the 
figures  stand  only  for  sounds.  As  for  those  significative 

.  figure* 


Sect.  2.]     OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       243 

figures  properly  called  hieroglyphics,  they  never  denoted 
other  than  tilings.  If  there  ever  were  an  exception,  it 
was  in  a  late  traveller;  whose  significative  Egyptian 
figures,  I  am  told,  are  not  so  properly  the  representatives 
of  the  things  themselves,  as  of  the  writer's  words,  or  his 
verhal  descriptions  to  the  ingraver. — But  there  is  no  end 
of  correcting  the  extravagancies  of  a  perverse  imagina 
tion.  Here  we  have  one,  who  is  for  making  the  Egyptian 
hieroglyphics  a  kind  of  letters  :  \ve  have  lately  heard  of 
another,  still  more  at  defiance  with  common  sense,  who 
is  for  making  the  Hebrew  letters  a  kind  of  hieroglyphic 
characters*.  And  this  without  ever  having  travelled 
for  it. 

But 

*  See  Proposals  fur  printing  by  subscription  the  Look  o/\Tob  in  the 
Hebrew  character,  and  now  first  decyphered  info  English,  dated 
July  1,  174..3.  From  which,  I  shall  beg  leave  to  borrow  a  specimen 
of  the  Undertaker's  reasoning  and  eloquence.  "  To  obviate," 
says  he,  "  any  scruples  of  alarm  which  the  appearance  of  novelty 
"  and  p:irndox  might  occasion,  it  ma}'  be  proper  to  acquaint  the 
**  reader—  What? — that  the  new  version  of  Job,  now  offered  to  the 
"  public,  was  made  independently  of  any  Translation,  Commen- 
"  tator,  or  Critic,"  &c.  Without  doubt  it  was  a  ready  way  to 
quiet  all  alarms,  arising  from  the  appearance  of  novelty,  to  tell  his 
readers,  the  appearance  was  rcuL  Jlut  perhaps  by — obviating  any' 
scruples  of  alarm,  this  great  linguist  might  mean,  what  the  words 
naturally  imply,  the  freeing  his  reader  from  any  scruples  about  the 
uncharitableness  of  being  alarmed  to  one's  neighbours  discredit 
without  very  apparent  cause.  And  if  this  were  his  meaning,  he 
has  certainly  set  his  reader's  conscience  at  eass.  But  with  regard 
to  the  alarm  itself,  1  know  but  ona  way  of  stilling  that;  which  is, 
the  reasonable  prospect  his  reader  has  that  this,  which  is  now  a 
noiclty  and  paradox,  is  likely  to  continue  so. 

He  gees  on — "  In  the  mean  time,  if  the  sagacious  reader  is 
"  prompted  to  search  alter  truth,  too  long  coiu-caled  in  her  mys- 
"  terious  recesses — let  him  guard  against  ail  systematical  notions, 
"  and  assume  no  other  hypothesis  but  this,  that  the  best  sense 
ft  which  can  be  affixed  to  the  jf</trev  letters,  consistently  with  the 
"  context,  and  with  the  laws  of  tne  character,  is  the  genuine  sense 
"  of  the  Writer."  The  context,  does  he  say  ?  Why,  the  context  is 
yet  to  make;  as  well  as  the  sense  that  is  to  he  affixed  to  the  Hebrew 
letters.  And  if,  when  he  has  them  both  in  his  hands,  he  cannot 
make  them  agree,  he  must  be  the  very  dullest  of  all  his  bungling 
tribe.  The  man  had  heard,  somewhere  or  other,  of  that  "inK* 
critical  canon,  of  interpreting  agreeably  to  the  context,  which  means 
only  that  the  parts  should  conform  to  the  whole,  and  to  one 
another;  and  the  more  obscure  be  explained  by  the  more  intelli 
gible  ;  and  this,  he  has  innocently  applied  to  parts  and  a  yhule  that 

R.  2  ar 


244  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  1. 

But  our  Author  seems  to  have  been  misled  by  a  wrong 
imagination ;  that  the  public  would  expect  it  of  a  tra 
veller  to  be  intimately  conversant  in  all  the  old  learning 
and  religion  of  the  places  he  had  visited  :  as  if  these 
were  to  be  picked  out  of  the  rubbish  of  the  dead  walls 
•in  which  they  were  once  contained,  rather  than  from  the 
living  monuments  of  their  contemporary  inhabitants. 
But  sure  the  learned  world  is  less  unreasonable;  this 
would  exceed  even  tiie  old  .Egyptian  exaction,  and  be 
requiring  brick,  not  indeed  without  strazc,  for  enough  of 
that,  we  see,  is  to  be  gathered  in  rambling  thrmigh  the 
laud;  but,  what  is  worse,  without  materials.  However, 
to  this  imagination  it  appears  we  owe  his  account  of  the 
^hieroglyphics  in  the  prcxc/tt,  and  of  the  -wi/f/to^i/  (if  the 
antioii  Egyptians,  in  the  preceding  chapter;  which  he 
introduces  in  this  extraordinary  manner:  "  As  the  mylho- 
"  logy,  or  fabulous  religion  of  the  ancient  Egyptians) 
;c  may  be  looked  on,  in  a  great  measure,  as  the  founda- 
"  tion  of  the  heathen  religion,  in  most  other  parts;  so  it 
"  may  not  be  improper  to  give  some  account  of  the 
"  origin  of  it,  as  it  is  delivered  by  the  most  ancient 

"  authors, 

are  to  be  all  of  his  own  making;  which  he  may  make  as  obscure 
at  least,  it'  not  ay  intelligible,  us  he  p'e^r-s. 

Having  thus  tlrorgly  pluwctl  himself  with  his  proy-£oofie  quill, 
he  at  length  takes  his  (light — il  Thus  prepared,"  he  SUNS,  "  lie  will 
r*  defy  difficulty  and  scorn  assistance;  c,sieernin<i  an  officious  hint 
"  an  affront  to  his  genius,  or  suspecting  lit:  was  envied  the  plea-im? 
"  of  investigating  i:he  theorem.  Fantastic  glory  !  short-lived  plea- 
"  sure  !  that  taust  vanish  into  indignation,  for  not  havitg  sooner 
"  perceived  so  transparent  an  artiiice."  But  here  we  leave  him. 
lie  now  soars  out  of  tight,  and  becomes  inscrutable  to  mortal  e\<  s. 

Indeed,  he  might-have  passed  without  any  notice  at  all,  had  lie 
not  betrayed  his  kind  when  he  attempted  to  roar.  For,  though  it 
be  his  business  to  possess  the  public  with  an  high  idea  of  tho 
knowledge  he  is  about  to  open  !o  thuu  from  the  discovery  of  a 
new  real  CIPHER,  yet  he  can't,  for  his  life  (even  in  this  vs-ry 
specimen}  forbear  to  call  it  a  HACEKDOTAL  jargon—a  gibberish  <>f 
their  even.  Let  the  priests  then  look  to  themselves.  Here  is  a  new 
church-decipherer,  who  has  not  only  discovered  they  are  accus 
tomed  to  write  in  jargon,  but  has  also  found  the  key.  We  know 
them  to  be  always  plotting  against  the  government  of  nature:  the 
public  therefore  cannot  but  be  as  impatient  for  their  conviction,  as 
this  decipherer  is  for  the  filling,  his  subscription:  which,  as  itwiil  be 
the  means  of  satisfying  both,  I  would  beg  leave  to  recommend  to 
the.ir  consideration.  Subscriptions  are  taken  in  by  J«  Nourse  at  th& 
Lamb  without  Temple-Bar. 


Sect.  2.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       245 

"  authors,  which  may  give  some  light  both  to  the  de- 
"  scription  of  Egypt,  and  also  to  the  history  of  that 
"  country.  \Ve  may  suppose,  that  the  ancients  were 
"the  hest  judges  of  the  nature  of  their  religion;  and 
"  consequently,  that  all  interpretations  of  their  mytho- 
"  logy,  by  men  of  fruitful  inventions,  that  have  no  sort  of 
"  foundation  in  their  writings,  are  forced,  and  such  as 
"  might  never  he  intended  by  them.  On  the  contrary, 
"  it  is  necessary  to  retrench  several  things  the  ancients 
"  themselves  seem  to  have  invented,  and  grafted  on  true 
"  iiistory  ;  and,  in  order  to  account  for  many  things, 
"  the  genealogies  and  alliances  they  mention  must  in 
"  several  respects  be  false  or  erroneous,  and  seem  to  have 
"  been  invented  to  accommodate  the  honours  of  the  same 
"  deities  to  different  persons,  they  were  obliged  to  deify, 
"  who  lived  at  different  times  ;  and  so  they  were  obliged 
"  to  give  them  new  names,  invent  genealogies,  and  some 
"  different  attributes.''  pp.  221,  222. 

He  says,  ff'e  may  suppose  that  the  Ancients  \ccre  the 
best  judges  of  the  nature  -of  their  religion.  But  the 
Ancients,  here  spoken  of,  were  not  Egyptians,  but 
Greeks  ;  and  the  mythology  here  spoken  of,  was  not 
Greek,  but  Egyptian  :  Therefore  these  Ancients  might 
well  be  mistaken  about  the  nature  of  a  religion  which 
they  borrowed  from  strangers  ;  the  principles  of  which, 
they  themselves  tell  us,  were  always  kept  secreted  from 
them.  But  this  is  not  all,  they  in  fact  were  mistaken; 
and  by  no  means  good  judges  of  the  nature  of  their 
religion,  if  we  may  believe  one  of  the  most  authentic  of 
these  Ancients,  HKHOPOTUS  himself,  where  discoursing 
of  the  Greeks  he  expressly  says,  —  "  But  the  origin  of 
"  each  god,  and  whether  they  are  all  from  eternity,  and 
"  what  is  their  several  kinds  or  natures,  to  speak  the 
"  truth,  they  neither  knew  at  that  time  nor  since*/' 

He  goes  on  —  and  COX^EQULXTI  v  that  ail  interpre 
tation*  of  their  mythology  by  wen  of'Jruitjui  inventions, 
that  have  no  sort  of  foundation  in  }heir  writ'uigs,  are 
forced,  and  ,\ttch  as  might  never  he,  intended  hij  them. 
This  is  indeed  a  truth,  but  it  is  no  CQxsi:qi;E\ci>:, 


J<  Qzuv,  SS'TE  £'  »E*  v&txv  Grx.il  sq,  cxo~o»  re 

TO.   s'/^aa,  xx  imrssfio   (4*%^    $  vrpw  rs  -^   y&c,    u$    tfow   7^ya.      Lib.  ii. 
cap.  33. 

K  therefore 


246  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

therefore  impertinent.  For,  whether  the  Ancients  were, 
or  were  not,  the  best  judges ;  whether  the  moderns  have, 
or  have  not,  fruitful  inventions,  yet  if  their  interpreta 
tions  have  no  sort  of  foundation  in  undent  writings,  it  is 
certain  they  are  forced,  and  suck  as  might  'never  be  in 
tended  by  them.  But  what  does  he  get  by  this  hypothe 
tical  proposition,  more  than  the  discredit  of  begging  his 
question  ? 

But  the  most  extraordinary,  is  his  making  it  an  addi 
tional  reason  for  leaving  the  moderns,  and  sticking  to  the 
Ancients,  that  the  Ancients  tJiemselves  seem  to  hare 
invented  and  -grafted  on  true  history,  and,  in  order  (he 
says)  to  account  for  many  things,  the  genealogies  and 
alliances  they  mention,  must  in  several  respects  be  false 
or  erroneous,  and  seem  to  have  been  invented,  etc.  Now,  if 
the  ancients  were  thus  mistaken,  the  moderns  sure  might 
be  excused  in  endeavouring  to  set  them  ridit :  therefore 

O  O 

to  a  plain  reasoner,  this  would  seem  to  shew  the  use  of 
their  interpretations.  But  this  use  is  better  understood 
from  our  Author's  own  example ;  who,  in  the  chapter  we 
are  upon,  has  attempted  to  give  us  some  knowledge  of 
antiquity  without  them. 

And  here  we  find,  the  ancient  account,  to  which  he  so 
closely  adheres,   is  not  only  fabulous,    by  his  own  con- 
fession'.,  but  contradictory,   by  his  own   representation, 
a  confused  collection  of  errors  and  absurdities ;  the  very 
condition  of  antiquity  which  forced  the  moderns  to  have 
recourse  to  interpretations :  and  occasioned  that  variety 
Avhereon  our  Author  grounds  his  charge  against  them. 
A  charge  however  in  which  his  Ancients  themselves  will 
be  involved ;  for  they  likewise  had  their  interpretations', 
and  were,  if  their  variety  would  give  it  them,  at  least,  as 
fruitful  in  their  inventions.    How  differing,  for  instance, 
were  they  in  opinion  concerning  the  origin  of  ANIMAL 
•WORSHIP  *  !     Was  our  Author  ignorant  that  so  extraor 
dinary  a  superstition  wanted  explanation  ?     By  no  means. 
Yet  tor  fear  of  incurring  the  censure  of a  fruitful  inven 
tion,  he,  instead  of  taking  the  true  solution  of  a  modern 
critic;     or   even   any   rational    interpretation'!"    of   the 

ancient 

*  See  Div.  Leg,  Book  iv.  §  4. 

f  This,  at  least,   the  learned  author  of  the  late   Defence  of  tht 
•prime  Ministry  of  Joseph  has  thought  it  but  decent  to  do,  (p.  o2l2.J 

whom 


Sect.  2.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       247 

ancient  mythologist,  whom  yet  he  professes  to  follow,- 
contents  himself  with  that  wretched  fable  of  Typhous 

dividing 

whom  I  just  mention  here  because  lie  does  not  so  properly  come 
within  the  purpose  of 'this  Pamphlet.  For  as,  in  several  parts  of 
his  Defence,  he  consents  to  me  without  acknowledgment ;  so,  in 
others,  he  diflers  from  me  without  contradiction,  I  have  another 
reason  not  to  examine  the  grounds  of  his  difference,  and  that  is, 
because  I  apprehend  he  may,  on  second  thoughts,  retract  his 
opinion  on  every  of  those  points, -as  he  seems  already  to  haw  done 
in  one  or  two.  Thus,  for  instance,  speaking  (p.  522.)  of  ike  origin, 
of  Brute-worship,  in  Egypt,  lie  says,  "  Hut  there  is  another 
"  reason  [of  Brute-worship]  assigned  by  Lucian,  that  to  me  is  the 
"  most  probable  of  all.  lie  tells  us  that  the  Egyptians  found  out 
"  how  to  measure  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  and  how  to 
u  compute  years  and  months  and  seasons.  They  divided  that 
"  part  .of  the  heavens  and  the  fixed  stars  stationed  in  it,  through 
"  which  the  moveable  stars  and  planets  pass,  into  twelve  parts, 
"  and  represented  eiich  part  by  some  proper  different  animal  of 
"  their  own.  And  from  hence  arose  many  sorts  of  sacred  riles  iii- 
"  Egypt,"  &c.  Yet,  at  p.  458,  he  assigns  a  very  different  original : 
"  I  think  there  is  little  doubt  but  that  the  monstrous  figures  of  the. 
"  Egyptian  gods,  and  great  part  of  their  stupid  idolatry  and  beast- 
"  worship,  took  its  rise  from  these  hieroglyphic  characters." — So 
again,  p.  472,  speaking  of  the  origin  of  Idolatry,  he  makes  the  first 
species  of  it  to  be  HERO-WORSHIP:  "  And  I  think  (says  he)  that 
u  the  account  given  of  them  \_the  Sons  of  the  Elohim  in  the  antcdi- 
"  liiwan  World]  by  the  historian,  that  they  were  the  mighty  men  of 
"  old,  men  of  the  name,  us  the  Hebrew  expresses  it,  famous  and 
"  remarkable  from  ancient  ages,  points  them  out  as  the  most 
"  ancient,  gods  and  heroes;  a  supposition  that  we  shall  see  pre-1 
"  sently  confirmed  by  the  testimony  of  profane  history."  Yet  at 
p.  51.5,  lie  makes  the  beginnings  of  idolatry  to  be.  the  worship  of  the 
HEAVENLY  BODIES.  *'  These  several  accounts  put  together 
"  clearly  shew  us  the  rise  and  progress  of  superstition  and  fake 
"  worship  in  the  world.  It  began,  as  it  was  natural  to  imagine  it 
"  should,  in  the  adoration  of  the  heavenly  luminaries,  the  sun, 
"  moon,  and  stars,  who  were  supposed  to  preside  over  the  day 
"  and  night,  and  the  various  seasons  of  the  year,  and  to  whom 
'  the  earliest  nations  were  taught  to  ascribe  the  origin  and  oiisso- 
"  lution  of  all  things.  Next  after  these  the  earth,  and  the  several 
"  elements  of  which  the  world  was  supposed  to  consist,  had  ima^i- 
"  nary  deity  ascribed  to  them,  and  came  in  for  their  share  of 
u  adoration.  And  as  the  glory  of  the  celestial  bodies,  and  the 
"  constant  benefit  men  received  by  their  light,  warmth,  and  con- 
t;  tinual  influences  on  the  earth,  first  impressed  men  \vitli  wonder, 
"  drew  them  into  adoration,  excited  their  gratitude,  <;nd  created 
"  in  them  an  imagination  of  their  being  gods;  they  were  AVTEU- 
"  WARDS  led  into  an  high  veneration  for  their  princes,  whom  they 
44  admired  for  their  power,  prudence,  strength,  and  knowledge: 
"  considering  them  as  their  benefactors  who  first  taught  them  the 
"  use  of  such  things  as  greatly  tended  to  the  preservation,  security, 
*'  .good  order,  and  conieniencies  of  'life/' 


248  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

dividing  the  body  of  Osiris  into  twenty-six  parts,  and 
distributing  them  to  his  accomplices  :  which,  being  after 
wards  found  by  I$is,  and  delivered  by  her  to  distinct 
bodies  of  priests  to  be  buried  with  great  secrecy,  she 
enjoined  them  to  pay  divine  honours  to  him,  and  to  con 
secrate  some  particular  animal  to  his  memory.  Frcm 
this  account  (says  our  Author  very  gravely)  we  may  sec 
the  reason  tchy  so  many  sacred  animals  were  worshipped 
in  Egypt,  p.  226.  Again,  the  Greek  account,  in  Dio- 
dorus,  of  Oscriss  expedition,  has  been  shcvui  to  be  a 
heap  of  impossible  absurdities  ;  yet  our  Author  believes 
it  all;  and  would  have  believed  as  much  more,  rather 
than  have  run  into  the  rashness  of  any  wodern  invention. 
13ut  this  matter  comes  under  our  next  Section ;  where  v*  e 
have  to  do  with  a  very  different  sort  of  writer;  whose 
regard,  however,  for  antiquity  in  that  point  is,  we  con 
ceive,  as  much  too  small  as  this  Author's  is  too  great. 

Section  3. 
[See  Divine  Legation,  Book  iv,  §  5.] 

WHEN  I  entered  on  a  confutation  of  Sir  Isaac 
Newton's  Egyptian  Chronology,  I  was  willing,  for  the 
greater  satisfaction  of  the  reader,  to  set  his  arguments 
for  the  identity  of  Osiris  ami  &sostris>  on  which  that 
chronology  was  founded,  in  the  strongest  and  clearest 
light.  On  this  account  I  took  them  as  I  found  them 
collected,  ranged  in  order,  and  set  together  in  one  view, 
with  the  greatest  advantage  of  representation,  by  the  very 
worthy  and  learned  Master  of  the  Charter-House,  in  a 
professed  apology  for  that  excellent  author,  But  this 
liberty  the  learned  writer  hath  been  pleased  to  animad 
vert  upon  in  the  late  Latin  edition*  of  the  tracts  to 
which  that  apology  was  prefixed— "We  are  not  (says  he|) 

*l  ignorant 

o 

*  De  vcris  annis  D.  N.  Jcsu  Chriati  natuli  «$•  cmartuali  Disserta* 
tiuncs  (luce  Ckioaologxce. 

f  "  Non  iicscimus  nuperrime  accidisse,  ut  vir  ingenio  &  erudi- 
tione  praestaust,  quuni  ratus  sit  ad  Diviuam  Legationem  Mosis 
demonstrandum  aliquo  uiodo  pcriinere,  ut  probetur  Osiris  LOU 
esse  idem  cum  Sesostri,  onuiia  Imc  allata  in  lu&um  jocumque 
verterit,  instituta  comparatione  Arthuii  illius  iabulosi  cum 
Wilhelmo  Noniianno,quos  iequc  bonis  ratiouibus  in  unum  hoini- 

|  ]).  WarbuTtoi)  Divt  Leg, Mods  pcmoust.  &t.  Tcir:.  ii. 


Sect.  3.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       249 

"  ignorant  of  what  has  lately  happened,  that  the  Author 
"  of  The  Divine  Legation,  supposing  it,  some  how  or 
"  other,  to  concern  3-fosess  divine  mission  to  prove  that 
"  Osiris  was  not  the  same  with  Sesostris,  hath  turned  all 
"  that  is  here  said  into  ridicule,  by  a  comparison  made. 
"  between  the  fabulous  Arthur  and  II 'il  Ham  the  Norman; 
"  who,  he  says,  may  be  made  one  by  as  good  reasons 
a  (though  they  have  scarce  any  thing  alike  or  in  common 
"  with  one  another)  as  those  which  we  have  brought  to 
"  confound  Osiris  with  Sesostris:  and  on  this  point  he 
"  draws  out  a  disputation  through  seventy  pages  and 
"  upwards ;  wherein,  notwithstanding,  he  neither  denies 
"  nor  confutes,  but  only  laughs  at  what  we  have  here 
"  said  of  Sesostris.  It  is  true  indeed  that  some  other  of 
"  Newton's  assertions  he  does  oppose,  as  those  concern- 
"  ing  the  late  invention  of  arts,  arms,  and  instruments  by 
"  some  certain  king ;  and  of  this  part  of  the  argument 
"  he  has  the  better.  For  that  these  things  were  found 
"  out  by  the  Egyptians  long  before  the  age  of  Sesostris, 
"  holy  Scripture  commands  us  to  believe  :  but  whether 
"  found  out  by  any  of  their  kings,  is  not  so  certain. 
'  However,  these  were  matters  we  never  touched  upon, 
"  as  relating  nothing  to  our  purpose ;  nor  do  they  yet 
u  induce  us  to  recede  from  that  conclusion  of  the  famous 
"  Nfftotot*,  That  Sesac  was  Sesostris,  Osiris,  and  Bacchus* 
"  But  the  cause  being  now  brought  before  the  public,  let 
"  the  learned  determine  of  it."  Thus  far  this  candid  and 
ingenuous  writer. 

He  says,  the  Author  of  the  Divine  Legation  supposes 
that  it  sonic  how  or  other  concerns  Moses's  divine  mission 
to  prove  Osiris  not  the  same  with  Sesostris;  which  seems 

to 

"  nem  conflari  posse  ait  (quarnvis  nihil  fere  habeaut  inter  se  com- 
"  mune aut simile)  ac  nosOsirin  cum  Scbostri  conl'midimus.  Et  de 
«'  hac  re  disputationem  in  70  pagiuas  &  ultra  produdt.  In  qua 
"  tameu  haec  uostra  de  Sesostri  neque  nrgat  neque  refellit,  sed 
"  irridet.  Alia  vcro  quacdam  Newtoui  dicta  de  hero  inventis  ab 
"  uliquo  rege  artibus,  armis,  instrumentis  opjjugnat,  et  ea  quidem 
"  parte  causa?  vincit.  Nam  ut  ista  longe  ante  besostris  aUatem 
4<  apud  ./Egyptios  reperta  sint,  Script  lira  sacra  jubet  credere;  ab 
"  ullo  unquani  regum  inventa  esse  baud  ita  cerium,  bee!  ea  prius 
*'  non  attigimus,  ut  qua}  nihil  ad  propositum  nostrum  attinent, 
"  neque  mine  nos  movent,  ut  pedem  retrahamus  ab  ista  Cl.  New- 
**  toni  conclusione  .Scsacum,  Sesostrim,  Osiiin  &•  Bacchum  fuisse: 
*'*  i-ite  jam  contestata  judiceiit  eruditi."  In  Dedic.  pp.  xii.  xiii. 


350  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

to  imply  that  this  learned  person  doth  not  see  how  it' 
concerns  it.  And  yet  afterwards  he  owns,  that  Scripture 
(meaning  the  writings  of  Moses)  mil  not  a/low  m  to 
believe,  with  Sir  Isaac,  that  the  invention  of  arts,  arms, 
and  instruments,  was  so  late  as  the  time  of  Sesostris. 
Now  it  follows,  as  I  have  shewn,  by  certain  consequence,1 
that,  if  Osiris  and  Sesostris  were  one  and  the  same,  then 
the  invention  of  arts  was  as  late  as  the  time  of  Sesostris. 
But  this  contradicting-Scr/p^wrr,  or  the  writings  of  Moses ^ 
as  the  learned  writer  himself  conicsseth,  the  reader  sees 
how  it  concerns  Moses's  mission  to  prove  Osiris  not  the 
mine  with  vSesostris. 

The  learned  writer,  speaking  of  the  comparison  I  had 
made  between  Arthur  and  William  the  Norman,  says, 
they  have  scarce  any  thing  alike  or  in  common  with  one 
another.  I  had  brought  together  thirteen  circumstances 
(the  very  number  the  learned  writer  thinks  sufficient  to 
establish  the  identity  of  Osiris  and  Sesostris)  in  which 
they  perfectly  agreed.  I  am  persuaded  he  does  not 
suspect  me  of  falsifying  their  history.  He  must  mean 
therefore  that  thirteen  in  my  comparison,  is  scarce  any 
thing,  which,  in  his,  is  every  thing. 

He  goes  on, — in  a  disputation  of  seventy  pages  and 
upwards  the  Author  of  the  Divine  Legation  neither  denies 
nor  confutes,  hut  only  laughs  at  ichat  we  have  said  of 
Sesostris.  What  is  it  the  learned  writer  hath  said  of 
Sesostris  ?  Is  it  not  this  ?  That  between  his  history  and 
that  of  Osiris  there  are  many  strokes  of  resemblance : 
from  whence  he  infers  (with  Sir  Isaac)  that  these  two 
heroes  were  one  and  the  same.  Now  if  he  means  I  have 
not  denied  nor  confuted  this  resemblance,  he  says  true. 
I  had  no  such  design.  It  is  too  well  marked  by  antiquity 
to  be  denied.  Neither,  let  me  add,  did  I  laugh  at  it 
"What  I  laughed  at  (if  my  bringing  a  similar  case  is  to  be 
called  by  that  word)  was  his  inference  from  this  resem 
blance,  that  therefore  Osiris  and  Sesostris  were  one  and 
the  same.  But  then  too  I  did  more  than  laugh :  I  both 
denied  and  confuted  it.  First  I  denied  it,  by  shewing  that 
this  resemblance  might  really  be,  though  Osiris  and  &- 
sostris  were  two  different  men,  as  appeared  by  an  equal 
resemblance  in  the  actions  of  tico  different  men,  Arthur 
and  William  the  Norman.  But  as  the  general  history  of 

ancient 


Sect.  3.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       251 

ancient  Egypt  would  not  suffer  us  to  believe  all  that  the 
Greek  writers  have  said  of  this  resemblance,  \  then  ex 
plained  the  causes  that  occasioned  their  mistaken  accounts 
of  the  two  persons,  from  whence  so  perfect  a  resem 
blance  arose.  Secondly,  I  confuted  it,  by  shewing  from 
the  concurrent  testimony  of  antiquity,  and  from  several 
internal  -arguments  deducible  from  that  testimony,  that 
Osiris  and  Sesostris  were  in  fact  two  different  persons, 
living  in  two  very  distant  ages. 

The  learned  writer  proceeds — It  is  true  indeed  that 
some  other  of  New  ton's  assertions  he  does  oppose,  as  those 
concerning  the  late  invention  of  arts,  arms,  and  instru 
ments,  and  in  this  part  of  the  argument  he  gets  the 
better.  But  if  I  have  the  better  here,  it  is  past  dispute 
I  overthrow  the  whole  hypothesis  of  the  identity  of 
Osiris  and  Sesostris.  For,  as  to  that  resemblance,  which 
antiquity  hath  given  them,  that,  considered  singly,  when 
the  pretended  late  invention  of  arts  hath  been  proved  a 
mistake,  will  indeed  deserve  only  to  be  laughed  at.  But 
were  it,  as  Sir  Isaac  Newton  endeavoured  to  prove,  that 
the  invention  of  arts  was  no  earlier  than  the  time  of 
Sesostris  or  Scsac,  there  is  then  indeed  an  end  of  the 
ancient  Osiris  of-'JE-gypt;  and  he  so  much  boasted  of  by 
that  people  can  be  no  other  than  the  Sesostris  of  this 
Author.  For  the  very  foundation  of  the  existence  of  the 
(indent  Osiris  was  his  civilizing  Egypt,  and  teaching  them 
the  arts  of  life:  but  if  this  were  done  by  Sesostris,  or 
in  his  reign,  then  is  he  the  true  Osiris  of  Egypt.  As  on 
the  contrary,  were  the  invention  of  arts  as  early  as 
Scripture  history  represents  it,  then  is  Egypt  to  be 
believed,  when  she  tells  us  that  Osiris,  their  inventor  of 
arts,  was  many  ages  earlier  than  Sesostris  their  conqueror: 
and  consequently  all  Sir  Isaac  Newt  on  s  identity  separates 
and  falls  to  pieces.  In  a  word,  take  it  which  way  you 
will,  if  Osiris  were  the  same  as  Sesostris,  then  must  the 
invention  of  arts  (for  all  antiquity  have  concurred  in 
giving  that  invention  to  Osiris}  be  as  late  as  the  age  of 
Sesostris,  the  Scsac  of  Newton:  but  this,  Scripture  history 
will  not  suffer  us  to  believe.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
Osiris  and  Sesostris  were  not  the  same,  thea  was  the 
invention  of  arts  (and  for  the  same  reason)  much  earlier 
than  the  age  of  Sesostris;  as  indeed  all  mankind  thought 

before 


252  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

before  Sir  Isaac.  These  were  the  considerations  which 
induced  that  great  man,  who  so  well  understood  the 
nature  and  force  of  evidence,  to  employ  his  whole  sagacity 
of  criticism  in  proving  the  invention  of  arts  to  be  about 
the  age  of  his  Sesostris  or  8esac.  And  is  it  possible  he 
should  have  a  follower  who  cannot  sec  that  he  hath  done 
this  ?  or  the  necessity  he  had  of  doing  it  ?  It  will  be 
said,  perhaps,  "  that  Sir  Isaac  has,  indeed,  argued  much 
"  for  the  low*  invention  of  arts:  but  hath  neither  inforced 
"  it  under  the  name  of  an  argument,  nor  stated  it  in  the 
**'  form  here  represented."  The  objection  would  ill 
become  a  follower  of  the  great  New  ton,  who  should 
know-  that  his  master's  method,  as  well  in  these  his  cri- 
tical&s  in  his  physical  inquiries,  was  to  form  the  principal 
members  of  his  demonstration  with  an  unornamented 
brevity,  and  leave  the  suppiial  of  the  small  connecting 
parts  to  his  render's  capacity.  Besides,  in  so  obvious, 
so  capital,  so  necessary  an  argument  for  this  identity,  it 
had  been  a  ridiculous  distrust  of  common  sense,  after 
he  had  spent  so  much  pains  in  endeavouring  to  prove  the 
low  invention  of  arts,  to  have  ended  his  reasoning  in  this 
formal  manner:  "  And  now,  reader,  take  notice  that 
"  this  is  a  conclusive  argument  for  the  identity  of  Osiris 
"  and  Sesostris"  Lastly,  let  me  observe,  that  this  very 
reason  which  induced  Sir  Isaac  to  be  so  large  in  the 
establishment  of  his  point,  the  lew  invention  of  arts, 
induced  me  to  be  as  large  in  the  subversion  of  it.  And 
now  some  reasonable  account,  I  hope,  is  given  of  the 
seventy  long  pages. 

What  follows  is  •  still  more  extraordinary. — However, 
these  were  matters  (says  the  learned  writer,  speaking  of 
the  invention  of  arts)  we  never  touched  upon,  as  relating 
nothing  to  our  purpose.  Here  I  cannot  but  lament  the 
learned  writer's  ill  fortune.  There  was  but  one  single 
point,  in  the  book  he  would  defend,  which  is  essentially 
to  his  purpose,  and  that,  he  hath  given  up  as  nothing  to 
his  purpose-,  and  more  unlucky  still,  on  a  review  of  the 
argument,  hath  treated  it  as  an  error  in  his  author  who 
.took  so  much  pains  about  it,  but  yet  as  an  error  that  does 
not  at  all  affect  the  question.  1'or, 

He  concludes  thus — nor  do   they  yet  induce  me  to 

recede  from  that  conclusion  of  the  famous  Newton,  that 

2  Sesac 


Sect  4.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       253 

Sesac  was  Sesostris,  Osiris,  and  Bacchus. — Sesac,  as  I 
said  before,  I  have  no  concern  with.  And  as  to  Bacchus, 
it  is  agreed  to  be  only  a  different  name  for  Osiris.  Tim 
thing  I  undertook  to  prove  was,  that  Osiris  and  Sestet  ri# 
were  not  one  and  the  same  person :  But,  in  doing  this, 
I  did  not  mean  to  say  that  Osiris  was  not  one  of  the 
names  of  Scsost ra.  Tins  is  a  very  different  proposition; 
and  the  rather  to  be  taken  notice  of,  because  I  suspect 
a  quibhle  in  the  words  of  the  learned  writer,  which  would 
confound  the  difference.  Nor  is  this  suspicion  unrea 
sonable.  For  I  have  met  with  some  who  have  even  ven 
tured  to  say  that  Sir  Isaac  meant  no  more  than  that 
Sestetrls  was  AN  Osiris.  But  if  he  meant  no  more,  I 
would  allow  him  to  mean  any  thing,  and  never  to  have 
his  meaning  disputed.  I,  for  my  part,  and  so  I  suppose 
the  rest  of  the  world,  understood  him  to  mean,  "  That 
4k  the  old  Osiris,  famous  amongst  the  Egyptians  lor 
"  legislation  and  the  invention  of  the  arts  of  life,  was  the 
"  very  same  man  with  Sesostris,  who,  those  Egyptians 
"  say,  was  a  different  man,  of  a  later  age,  and  famous 
"  for  the  conquest  of  the  habitable  world."-  This  was 
the  proposition  I  undertook  to  confute.  \Yjiereiri  I  en 
deavoured  to  shew  u  that  there  was  a  rail  Osiris,  such  as 
"  the  Egyptians  represented  him,  much  earlier  than  their 
"  Sewatris*  And  now  (to  use  this  writer's  words)  the 
anise  being  brought  before  the  Public,  let  the  learned 
del  ermine  of  it.  As  to  the  other  point,  that  Sesostris 
went  by  the  name  of  the  earlier  hero,  this  I  not  only 
allow,  but  contend  for,  as  it  opens  to  us  one  of  the  prio"- 
cipal  grounds  of  that  confusion  in  their  stories  which 
hath  produced  a  similitude  of  actions  whereon  Sir  Isaac. 
Newton  layeth  the  foundation  of  their  IDENTITY. 

Section  4. 

l&e  Divine  Legation,  Book  vi.  §  2.] 
THE  reverend  and  learned  Dr.  Richard  Grey  having 
lately  epitomized  the  Commentary  of  one  Albert  Sehultenz 
on  the  Book  of  Job,  hath  thought  fit,  in  the  Preface  to  his 
Abstract,  to  criticise  my  Dissertation  on  the  same  Book 
1n  the  follow;  ner  :— "  Nor  should  we  omit,  in  t- -c 

"fourth   plac        .     opinion   of  our   countryman,   Mr. 

"tPar'burt, 


254  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

"  JFarburton,  who,  with  great  sharpness  of  wit  and 
"  many  arguments  sufficiently  specious,  endeavours  to 
"  prove  that  the  whole  book  of  Job  is  dramatical  and 
"  allegorical,  yet  founded  in  true  history,  and  written  by 
"  Esdra  in  solace  of  the  Jews,  now  returned  from  Ba- 
"  by/on  into  their  own  country,  and  about  to  experience, 
"  contrary  to  their  expectations,  an  ordinary  and  unequal 
:f  providence.  Now  in  a  matter  very  uncertain,  and 
"  which  hitherto  hath  been  made  more  uncertain  by  the 
"  different  opinions  of  learned  men,  hardly  any  hypo- 
"  thesis  perhaps  can  be  thought  of  which  will  satisty  in 
"  all  its  parts  *."  Then  having  told  us  what  Spanhcim 

said, 

*  — Non  an  tern  pnetermittenda  est,  quarto,  scntcntia  doctis- 
simi  viri  Warburtuni  nostri,  qui  niagno  ingenii  acumine,  multisque 
argumentis,  satis  quidem   speciosis,  probare  iiititur,  Totum  libruui 
csse  opus  drafliaticum  &  allegoricurn,  vcrae  tamen  historic  super- 
structum,   ab  Esdra   conscriptum,   in  solatium  Judaiorum,  qui  e 
Babylone  in  suam    patriam    reversi,   providentiana  ordinariam  & 
inaequalem,  contra  atquc  expectabant,  jam  eraut  experturi.     In  re 
admodum  sane  incefta,  &  qu;c  cruditorum  hominum  dissensione 
incertior  adhuc  reddita  est,  vix   ulla  forsan  hypothesis  excogitari 
possit,  qua?  ex  onini   parte  satisfaciat. — Ut  ad  ebrum  itaque  sen- 
tentiam  accedo,  qui  librum  Jobi  omnium  sacrorum  codictim  anti- 
quissimum  esse  putant;  ita  a  Moyse  quidem  ex  autbenticis  monu- 
nientis  desumptum,   poeticeque  ornatum  fuisse,  nullus  dubito. — 
Atque    ex  nostra  hac  opinione   ratio    satis    idonea    reddi    potcst 
omnium  eorum  textuum,  siqui  sint,  in  quibus  sive  ad  legem,  siv^ 
ad   historian!   Judaicam  ante  scriptum  librum,  allusum  .est,   nou 
niinus  acsi  ab   Esdra  eurn  scriptum  fuisse  concedatur,  de  quo  viro 
-di versa  sentiunt  eruditi.     Quod  vero  ad  eos  locos,  quos  ad  sequi- 
orum  temporum  historias  referre  putat  yir  doctissimus,  nempc  ad 
Hezekias  pegritudinein   &  convalescentiam,  cap.xxxiii.  25.  &  exer- 
citus    Assyrii   internecionem,   cap.  xxxiv.  20.   ita  eos  intdligi  ut 
nihil  necesse  est,  ita  cornmodius  aliter  accipi  posse,  ex  notis,  ad 
quas  lectorem  remitto,  satis  apparebit.     Porro,  opus  esse  drama-* 
ticum,    seu   potius  vera.m    histonam  forma    drainatica,  babituquc 
poetico  exoruatam,  semper  existimavi ;   at  vero   subesse  qucque 
allegoriam,   persuaderi  nequeo,    aiquidem    non    sciiptoris   tantum 
aitas,  sed  &  libri  scopus,  quantum  ego  quidem  video,  ei  sentential 
adversatur.     Nam  quod  dicit  vir  clariss.  id  pra^cipue  in  hoc  libro 
disceptari,  nempe  an  bonis  semper  bona,  malisque  mala,  an  utris- 
q.ue   -utraque   promiscue    o'otingant :  hanc    autem  quazstionem  (a 
nobis  quidem  alienam,  minusque  i  !eo  perpensam)   nusquam  alibi 
gentium  prgeterquam  in  Judsea,  nee  apud  ipsos  Juda?os  aiio  quovis 
tempore,  quam  quod  assignat,  moveri  potuisse,  id  omne  ex  veritate 
siiSB  hypotheseos  pendet,  et  mea  quidem  sententia,  longe  aliter  se 
habet,     Nernpe  id  mium  voluisse  mitii  -vidt.tur  sacer  scriptor,  ut 
piis  omnibus,  utcunque  afflictis,  humilitatis  &:  patienliae  perpetuum 
docupie.ntum  ex  cont?i«pUtione  getiuna,  bine  infiniiae  Dei 

perfectionis» 


Sect.  4.]     OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       255 

«aid,  and  what  his  author  Schnltens  says,  which  are 
nothing  to  the  matter  in  hand,  he  goes  on  thus ;  "  There- 

"  fore, 

perfectionis,  japientice  ac  potentise  ;  illine  bnmancr,  qujc  in  sanc- 
tissimis  quoque  viris  inest,  corruptionis,  imbecillitatis,  &  ignoran- 
tije.  Quamvis  enim  in  sermonibus,  qui  in  eo  habentur,  de  religione, 
de  virtute,  de  provideniia,  Deique  in  raundo  gubernando  sapientia* 
justitia,  sanctitate,  de  uno  rerum  omnium  principio,  aliisque 
gravissimis  veritatibus  dissertetur,  hunc  tamen  quern  dixi  unicum 
esse  libri  scopum,  tarn  ex  initio  &  fine,  quam  ex  universa  ejus 
ffconomia  cuivis  opinor  manifestum  erit.  Ea  enim,  ut  rem  omru-m 
sunimatim  complectar,  Jobum  exhibet,  primo  quidem  querenteni, 
expostulantem,  cffneni  luctui  indulgentem  ;  mox  (quura,  ut  sacri 
dramatis  natura  postulabar,  amicornm  contradictione  sinistrisqoe 
•uspicionibus  magis  magisque  irritatus  &  lacessitus  esset)  impru- 
dentius  Deum  provocantem,  atque  in  justitia  sua  gloriantem ;  at! 
debit  am  tand-em  summisskmem  suique  cognitionem  reyocatum, 
turn  demum,  nee  antea,  integritatis  sua?  tain  prccmium,  quaui 
testimoniuin  a  Deo  reportantem.  F>x  his,  inquarn,  apparet,  noil 
primario  agi  in  hoc  libro  de  provklentia,  sive  cequali,  sive  ina^quali, 
«ed  de  personal!  Jobi  iutegritate.  Ilanc  enim  (quod  oinutm) 
observandum  est)  in  dubiuin  vocaverant  amici,  uon  ideo  tantum 
quod  afflictus  esset,  sed  quod  afflictus  impatientius  se  gereret, 
Deique  justitia  obmurmuraret :  &  qui  strenuus  videlicit  alioruru 
faortator tuerat  ad  torlitudinem  &c  constantiam,  quum  ipse  tentare- 
tur,  victus  labasceret.  Quum  accesserat  sanctissinii  viri  njali.s 
ha?c  gravissiina  omnium  tentatio,  ut  tanquam  improbus  &  liypuv 
crita  ab  aniicis  danmaretur,  &  quod  unicum  ei  supererat,  coiji'- 
sciential  suse  testinionio  ac  solatio,  quantum  ipsi  potuerunf, 
f»rivandus  foret,  quid  miscro  faciendum  erat  ?  Aniicos  perfidia* 
&  crudelitatis  arguit :  Deum  integritatis  sure  tcstein  vindjcemque 
appellat :  quum  auteni  nee  Deus  intervenijet,  ad  innocentiam  ejus 
vindicandam,  nee  remittereht  quicquam  amici  de  acerbis  sui? 
eensuns,  injustisque  criminaiionibus,  ari  supremum  illud  judicium 
provocat  in  quo  redemptorem  sibi  affuturum,  Deumque  a  suis  p;ir- 
tibus  staturuni,  suniina  cum  fiducia  se  novisse  uffirmat.  Jam  vero 
si  cardo  controversial  fuisset,  utrum,  salva  Dei  justitia,  san.cti  ia 
liac  vita  adfligi  possent,  hiec  ipsa  declaratio  litem  fmire  debuerat, 
Sin  autem  de  personal)  Jobi  innocentia  disceptetur,  nil  mirum. 
quod  v^terem  canere  cantilennm,  Jobumque  ut  fecerant,  condemn 
nare  prrgerent  soeii,  quum  Dti  soliujs  erat,  qui  corda  homin.ura 
cxplorat,  pro  certo  scire,  an  jure  merito  sibi  Jobus  hoc  solamen 
attribueret,  an  falsam  sibi  fiduciam  vanus  arrogaret.  Hac  igitur 
difiicultate  sublata,  nempe  cur  non  statim  obmutuerunt  anuci, 
quum  de  futuro  jiulicio  tarn  solenniter  magnificeque  dixisset  Jobus, 
nil  obstat  quo  minus  celebrcm  ilium  contextum  cap.  xix,  non  jdts 
temporali  in  integrum  restitutione,  sed  de  resurrectione  ad  vitaiu 
aeternam,  intelligere  possis.  Quod  si  arguments  a  commentator^ 
nostro  allatis,  ea  quoque  adjeceris  qune  vir  omni  laude. major,  jam 
episcopus  Sarisburiensis,  in  dissertatione  sua,  J)e  scntentla  vctcrum- 
de  circumstantiis  fr  c  nscqucntiis  lapsus  humani  pulcherrime  cgn: 
texuit,  nil  ultra.;  credo,  desideraris,  vel  ad  libri  antiqui-tatem,  vei 
ad  vexatissimi  hujus  loci  sensum.  coufinnandum.  Praf.  pp,  x — .\y, 


256  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

"  fore  as  I  am  of  their  opinion  who  think  the  hook  of 
"  Job  the  oldest  in  the  canon,  so  I  am  fully  persuaded  that 
"  it  was  written  by  Moses  himself,  who  took  it  from 
"  authentic  records,  and  put  it  into  the  dress  of  poetry. 
"  And,  on  this  our  opinion,  a  good  account  may  be  given 
"  of  all  those  texts,  if  any  such  there  he,  wherein  allusion 
"  is  made  to  the  Jewish  law  or  history  before  the  hook  was 
"  written,  no  less  than  if  we  should  allow  it  to  have  been 
"written  byAWmv,  of  whom  the  learned  think  diffe- 
"  rently.  And  as  to  those  places  which,  in  the  opinion 
"  of  the  Author  of  The  Divhie  Legation,  refer  to  his- 
"  tories  of  later  tiines,  such  as  the  sickness  and  recovery 
"  of  Hczekifih,  cap.  xxxiii.  2,5.  and  the  destruction  of  the 
"  Assyrian  army,  cap.  xxxiv.  20.  it  will  sufficiently  appear 
"  by  the  notes,  to  which  I  refer  the  reader,  that  there  is 
"  no  need  to  understand  them  in  this  sense,  and  that  they 
"  are  more  commodiously  understood  otherwise.  Fur- 
"  ther,  that  the  work  is  dramatical,  or,  to  speak  more 
"  properly,  a  true  history  in  the  form  of  a  drama,  and 
"  adorned  with  a  poetic  dress,  was  always  my  opinion : 
u  but  that  any  allegory  lies  under  it  1  can  by  no  means 
"  persuade  myself  to  believe ;  because  not  only  the  age 
"  of  the  writer,  but  the  very  scope  of  the  book  (as  far  as 
"  I  can  see)  leads  us  to  conclude  otherwise.  For  as  to 
"  what  this  writer  says,  that  the  main  question  handled 
"  in  the  book  of  Job  is  whether  good  happens  to  the  good, 
"  and  evil  to  evil  men,  or  whether  both  happen  not 
"  promiscuously  to  both :  and  that  this  question  (a  very 
"  foreign  one  to  us,  and  therefore  the  less  attended  to) 
"  could  never  bo  the  subject  of  disputation  any  where 
"  but  in  the  land  ofjudea,  nor  there  neither  at  any  other 
"  time  than  that  which  he  assigns:  all  this  I  say, 
"  depends  on  the  truth  of  his  hypothesis;  and  is,  in  my 
"  opinion,  far  otherwise.  For  the  sole  purpose  of  the 
"  sacred  writer  seems  to  me  to  be  this,  to  compose  a 
"  work  that  should  remain  a  perpetual  document  of 
"  humility  and  patience  to  all  good  men  in  affliction,  from 
"  this  two-fold  consideration,  as  on  the  one  hand,  of  the 
"  infinite  perfection,  pow-er,  and  wisdom  of  God ;  so  on 
"  the  other,  of  human  corruption,  imbecility,  and  igno- 
"  ranee,  discoverable  even  in  the  best  of  men.  For 
"  although  in  the  speeches  that  occur  there  be  much  talk 

"  of 


Sect.  4.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       257 

"  of  religion,  virtue,  and  Providence  ;  of  God's  wisdom, 
"justice,  and  holiness,  in  the  government  of  the  world; 
"  of  one  principle  of  all  things,  and  other  most  impor- 
"  tant  truths ;  yet  that  this,  which  I  have  assigned,  is  the 
,"  only  scope  of  the  book,  will  appear  manifest  to  every 
"  one,  as  well  from  the  beginning  and  the  end,  as  from 
"  the  economy  of  the  whole.  For  to  say  all  in  a  word, 
"  it  first  presents  Job  complaining,  expostulating,  and 
"  indulging  himself  in  an  ungovernable  grief,  but  soon 
"  after  (when,  as  the  nature  of  the  sacred  Drama  re- 
"  quired,  by  the  contradiction  of  his  friends  and  their 
"  sinister  suspicions  he  became  more  and  more  teased 
"  and  irritated)  rashly  challenging  God,  and  glorying  in 
"  his  own  integrity;  yet  at  length  brought  back  to  a  due 
"submission  and  knowledge  of  himself;  and  then,  at  last, 
"  and  not  before,  receiving  from  God  both  the  reward 
"  and  testimony  of  his  uprightness.  From  all  this,  I  say, 
"  it  appears  that  the  personal  integrity  of  Job,  and  not 
"  the  question  concerning  an  equal  or  unequal  provi- 
"  dence,  is  the  principal  subject  of  the  book.  For  that 
"  it  was  (and  there  our  attention  should  be  fixed),  which 
"  his  friends  doubted  of;  not  so  much  on  account  of  his 
"  affliction,  as  for  the  not  bearing  his  affliction  with 
"  patience,  but  complaining  of  the  justice  of  God.  And 
"  that  he  who  was  an  able  adviser  of  others  to  fortitude 
"  and  constancy,  should,  when  his  own  trial  came,  sink 
"  under  the  stroke  of  his  disasters.  See  cap.  iv.  ver.  i  2. 
"  34.  Now  when  the  most  grievous  trial  of  all  was 
"  added  to  the  other  evils  of  this  holy  person,  to  be  con- 
"  demned  by  his  friends  as  a  profligate  and  a  hypocrite, 
"  and  to  be  deprived,  as  much  as  in  them  lay,  of  his  only 
"  remaining  support,  the  testimony  of  a  good  conscience, 
"  what  was  left  for  the  unhappy  man  to  do?  lie  accuses 
"  his  friends  of  perfidy  and  cruelty;  he  calls  upon  God 
"  as  the  witness  and  avenger  of  his  integrity :  but  when 
"  neither  God  interposed  to  vindicate  his  innocence,  nor 
"  his  friends  forbore  to  urge  their  harsh  censures  and 
"unjust  accusations,  he  appeals  to  that  last  judgment,  in 
"  which,  with  the  utmost  confidence,  he  affirms  that  he 
"  knew,  his  Redeemer  would  be  present  to  him,  mid  that 
**.  God  would  declare  in  his  favour.  But  now.  if  the 
i:  hinge  of  the  controversy  had  turned  on  this,  Whether 
VOL.  XI.  S  "  or 


2.58  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Parti. 

"  or  no,  consistently  with  God's  justice,  good  men  could 
"  I*e  afflicted  in  this  life,  this  declaration  ought  to  have 
11  finished  the  debate:  but  if  the  question  were  conceru- 
"  ing  the  personal  innocence  of  Job,  it  was  no  wonder  that 
"  they  still  sung  their  old  song,  and  went  on  as  they  had 
"  begun,  to  condemn  their  old  afflicted  friend,  since  it 
•"  was  in  the  power  of  God  alone  to  explore  the  hearts 
"  of  men,  and  to  know  for  certain  whether  it  was  Job's 
"  piety  that  rightly  applied  a  consolation,  or  whether  it 
u  was  his  vanity  that  arrogated  a  false  confidence  to 
"  himself. 

-".  This  difficulty  therefore  being  removed,  namely,  why 
"  his  friends  were  not  immediately  put  to  silence  when 
"  Job  had  so  solemnly  and  magnificently  talked  of  a 
"  future  jiuUmient,  nothing  hinders  us  trom  applying 
"  that  celebrated  text  cap.  xix.  not  to  a  temporal  resti- 
"  tutiun  to  his  former  condition,  but  to  a  resurrection  to 
"  eternal  life.  But  if,  to  the  arguments  brought  by  owr 
"  Commentator,  you  add  also  those,  which  a  writer 
'"above  ;ill  praise,  the  present  Bishop  of  Sarum,  hath 
"  most  beautifully  interwoven  in  his  Dissertation  on  the 
"  Opinion  of  the  Ancients  conccrnh.-g  the  Circumstances 
."  and  Conveniences  of  the  Lapse  vj  Mankind,  1  believe  you 
"  will  want  nothing  to  confirm  you  in  the  opinion  of  the 
"  antiquity  of  the  book,  and  my  sense  of  this  most 
"  perplexed  passage."  Thi;s  far  the  very  candid  and 
learned  writer  ;  who  will  not  be  displeased  with  me  for 
examining  the  reasons  lie  hath  here  offered  against  my 
explanation  of  the  book  of  Job. 

He  begins  with  saying,  \\\»t  I  have  by  many  arguments 
totfjiciently  specious,  endeavour  id  1o  prove  that  the  whole 
hook  of  Job  is  dramatical  and  allegorical,  yet  jounded  in/ 

' 


true  mtds'y,  and  written  bij  Esdra  in  solace  oj  'the.  Jews, 
&c.  And  then  iiurnediately  subjoins,  .Jh'cw  in  a  matter 
rcrij  uncertain,  (n;du'hich<  hitherto  iialJi  been  made  more 
uncertain  by  the  different  cpinicm  oj  learned  men,  hardly 
ami  hypothesis  can  be  thought  ofichic'i  wilt  satisfy  in  alt* 
its  penis.  Let  us  attend  to  the  opening  of  his  cause. 
i  .  lie  owns  my  hypothesis  to  be  mf/icier}'llij.^pecioiis7  and 
vei  calls  the  subject,  which  this  hypothesis  explains,  a 
•imi  Her  very  tvnczrt&ffi*,  nay,  MITIJICBTO  rendered  more 
uncertain.  —  I*Y  what  r  \vhy,  if  you  will  believe  himself, 

,    by 


Bect/4.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.      359 


arguments  sufficiently  specious;  for  this  is  the 
character  he  is  pleased  to  give  or  these  ot  mine,  which 
fill  up  the  measure  of  those  diff£rc^2^opimori^i}on\ 
/whence  so  great  uncertainty  is  accumulated.  •  ••  2.  He  says 
that  in  an  uncertain  mat^>'  scarce  any  hypothesis  can 
satisfy.  Now,  though  this  be  a  commonplace  thought, 
it  is  nevertheless  a  very  false  one.  For  it  is  only  in 
uncertain  matters  that  hypotheses  are  invented,  to  be 
applied,  to  account  for.  the  appearances  of  things:  and 
sure  it  is  not  of  the:  nature  of  an  hypothesis  to  be 
it  ns  'a  'tis  factory?  3.  It  is  equally  false  that  an  uncertain 

.matter  is,  .otherwise  than  .by  accident,  rendered  more 
uncertain  by  diversity  of  opinions.  For  the  greater  the 
diversity  is,  the  greater  is  the  chance  of  coming  to  the 
truth  :  as  the  more  Toads  men  take  in  an  uncertain  way, 
the  greater.  the,  likelihood  of  finding  out  the  right.  4.  It 
is.  not  required  in  a  satisfactory  hypothesis  that  it  should 
satisfy  in  all  its  parts:  for  then  the  greatest  and  most 
momentous  truths  would  never  be  acquiesced  in,  since 
some  of  the  fundamental  points  of  religion,  natural  and 
revealed,  do  not  satisfy  in  all  their  parts  ;  there  being 

.  inexplicable  objections  even,  to  demonstrative  propositions. 
5..  But  what  is  strangest  of  all,  though  he  says  hardly  any 
hypothesis  can  he  thought  of  which  will  satisfy  in  all  its 

.  parts  ;  yet,  before  he  comes  to  the  end  of  his  paragraph, 
.he  has  found  one  that  does  satisfy  :  and,  stranger  still,  it 

.  is  the  common  one,  whose  incapacity  of  giving  satisfaction 

.was  the  reason  ibr  the  critics  excogitating  so  many  dif- 

.ferent  ones.  However,  in  this  hypothesis  he  rests,  like 
a  prudent  man  as  he  is.  Therefore  .(says  ,he)  as.  I  am  of 
their  opinion  who  think  the  book  pf  Job  the  oldest  in  the 

.  canon,  xo  I  am  fully  persuaded  that  it  was  written  by 
Moses  himself,  who  took  it  from  authentic  records,  and 
put  it  into  the  dres.s  of  pcetry.  Indeed,  to  make  way 
through  so  much  clou.bt  and  uncertainty,  to  an  opinion  he 
may  rind  his  account,  in,  he  has  kept  a  wicket  open  by  the 
insertion  of  the  particle  tv>  ;  yiv  ullaforsan  hypothesis-^ 
but  this  wrill  scarce  serve  his  purpose  ;  for  the  reasons 
why  hcrrdly  any  hypothesis  can  satisfy,  extend  as  well  to 
that  he  has  given  as  to  those  he  has  rejected  :  unless  he 
will  suppose  the  rest  to  be  discredited  by  dissenting  from 

s  2  that) 


200  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

that,  and  not  that  from  the  rest :  which  perhaps  after  all 
Inay  be  his  thought. 

lie  proceeds — And  on  this  our  opinion  a  good  account 
way  be  green  of  all  those  texts,  if  any  such  there  be, 
wherein  allusion  is  made  to  the  Jewish  taw  or  history 
before  the  book  was  written,  no  less  than  if  we  should 
fillvcc  it  to  hare  been  written  by  Esdra,  of  whom  the 
learned  think  differently.  Now,  not  to  insist  upon  this, 
that  the  common  hypothesis,  here  followed,  which  makes 
Closes  the  author,  supposes  him  lo  have  wrote  it  before 
his  mission  ;  and  consequently,  before  the  Jewish  law  and 
a  tilth's,  alluded  to,  were  given  and  transacted  :  not,  I  say, 
to  insist  on  this,  though  no  probable  reason  can  be 
assigned  for  -Moses's  writing  such  a  work  but  for  the 
people  in  captivity  ;  I  will  readily  allow  that  Moses  might 
write  any  thing  that  happened  to  him  or  his  people,  in  or 
before  his  administration,  as  easily  as  Esdra  could  do. 
But  the  question  is,  which  of  the  t\vo  is  most  likely  to 
have  done  so.  Our  Author  grants  this  to  be  a  work  of 
imitation,  or  of  the  dramatic  kind  ;  in  which  the  manners 
and  adventures  of  the  persons  acting  are  to  be  repre 
sented.  Now  could  Moses  mistake,  or,  in  such  a  work, 
give  without  mistaking,  the  history  of  his  own.  time  for 
the  history  of  Job's?  that  is,  make  Job  speak  of  the 
Egyptian  darkness,  or  the  passage  of  the  Red  Sea? 
Adventures  of  the  writer's  own  atchieving.  Esdra  in 
deed  either  way  might  well  do  this,  as  he  lived  so  many 
ages  after  the  facts  in  question.  Could  Euripides,  for 
example,  have  been  so  absurd  as  to  make  Orestes  and 
Clytcemnestra  speak  of  his  own  time  or  actions  ?  Though 
he  might,  without  much  absurdity,  have  made  them  mix 
the  manners,  or  allude  to  some  adventures  of  the  time  of 
Draco.  Ikit  our  Author's  caution  deserves  commen 
dation;  //'  (says  he)  there  be  any  such:  the  use  of  this 
is  evident,  that  if  his  own  solution  will  not  hold,  he  may 
be  at  liberty  to  denv  the  thing  itself.  But  what  he  means, 
by  observing  it,  in  discredit  of  Esdra?,  claim,  that  learned 
v/cu  think'  differently  of  him,  as  if  they  did  not  think 
differently  of  Musts  too,  is,  I  confess,  not  so  evident. 

lie  gees  on — And  as  to  these  places,  which  in  the  opiuicn 

cj  the  Author  c/.'  the  D.  L,  rtjer  to  histories  oj  later 

1 1  times, 


Sect  4.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       261 

times,  such  as  the  sickness  (Did  recovery  of  Ilezekiah, 
chap,  xxxiii.  ver.  25.  and  the  destruction  of  ///e  Assyrian 
army,  chap,  xxxiv.  ver.  20.  it  will  sufficiently  appear,  by 
the  notes  to  which  I  refer  the  reader,  that  there  Is  /;# 
need  to  understand  them  in  this  sense,  and  that  they  ai:q 
more  commodious ly  understood  otherwise.  On  this  point 
I  agree  to  join  issue  with  him,  and  to  refer  myself  to  the 
judgment  of  the  public. 

Further,  (says  he)  that  the  work  is  dramatical,  or,  to 
speak  more  properly ,  a  true  history  in  the  form  of  a  drama, 
and  adorned  with  a  poetical  dress,  was  always  -iny  opinion; 
but  that  any  allegory  lies  under  it,  I  can  by  no  means 
persuade  myself  to  believe  ;  because  not  only  the  age  cf 
the  writer,  but  the  very  scope  cf  the.  book  (as  far  as  I 
can  see)  leads  us  to  conclude  cthpnche.  As  to  tlie  scope 
of  the  book,  we  shall  examine  that  matter  hy  and  by:  but 
his  other  argument,  from  the  age  of  the  writer,  deserves 
no  examination  at  all,  as  it  is  a  downright  begging  the 
question ;  which  is  concerning  the  writer  and  his  age. 
Now  these,  by  reason  of  the  writer's  silence,  being  un 
certain,  must  be  determined  by  the  subject  -and  circum 
stances  of  the  work,  which  are  certain :  for  our  Author, 
therefore,  to  disprove  a  circumstance,  brought  to  deter 
mine  the  question,  by  an  argument  in  which  the  question 
is  taken  for  granted,  I  should  think  unfair,  were  it  not 
become  the  authorized  logic  of  all  those  writers  who 
give  their  own  opinions  for  principles.  It  rests  then  at 
last,  we  see,  in  his  belief  and  persuasion:  and  this  is 
always  regulated  on  the  belief  and  persuasion  of  those 
who  went  before.  Thus  he  believes  the  book  to  be 
dramatical,  because  others  have  believed  so  too :  he 
believes  it  not  to  be  allegorical,  because  he  could  Jind 
no  other  in  that  belief  before  the  Author  of  the  1).  L.—^- 
But  let  us  now  hear  what  he  has  to  say  concerning  the 
acope  of  the  book. 

For  as  to  what  this  IFri/cr  [the  Author  of  the  7),  Z,] 
says,  that  the  main  question  handled  in  the  .book  of  Job  is 
whether  good  happens  to  the  good,  and  evil  to  evil  men,  or 
'  whether  both  happen  not  promiscuously  to  both ;  and  that 
this  question  (a  very  foreign  one  to  us,  and  therefore  the, 
less  at  tended  to)  could  m  -re  jr  be  the  subject  cf  disputation 
any  where  but  in  the  land  of  Judca,  nor  there  neither  at 

s  3  any 


262  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  L 

any  other  time  than  that  ichich  he  assigns;  all  this,  I  say, 
depends  on  the  truth  of  his  hypothesis,  and  is,  in  nnj 
opinion,  far  othencise.  That  which  depends  on  the  truth 
of  an  hypothesis  has,  indeed,  generally  speaking,  a  very 
slender  foundation  :  and  I  am  partly  of  opinion  k  was 
the  common  prejudice  against  this  support,  that  inclined 
our  Author  to  give  my  notions  no  better.  But  he  should 
have  been  a  little  more  careful  in  timing  his  observation  : 
for,  as  it  happens,  what  I  have  shewn  to  be  the  subject 
of  the  book,  is  so  far  from  depending  on  the  truth  -of  -my 
hypothesis,  that  the  truth  of  my  hypothesis  depends  on 
what  I  have  shewn  to  be  the  subject  of  the  book  ;  and 
very  fitly  so,  as  every  reasonable  hypothesis  should  bo 
supported  on  fact.  Now  I  appeal  to  the  whole  learned 
world,  whether  it  be  not  as  clear  a.  fact  that  the  subject 
of  the  book  of  Job  is  whether  good  happens  to  the  good, 
and  evil  to  evil  men,  or  whether  both  happen:  not  promis 
cuously  to  both',  as  that  the  subject  of  the  first  book  of 
Tuscuian  Disputations  is  de  contemnenda  mtirte.  O.n 
this  I  establish  my  hypothesis,  that  the  book  of  Job  must 
have  been  written  -about  the  time  of  Esdra,  because  no 
other  assignable  time  'can  be  suited  to  the  subject.  —  But 
?tis-  possible  I  may  mistake  what  he  calls  my  hypothesis  : 
for  aught  I  know  he  may  understand  not  that  -of  the 
book  of  Job,  -but  that  of  the;  book  of<$&rJ3iwji6'>!L4gtfr 
tion.  And  then,  by  my  hypothesis,  he-  must  '•••  'mean  ^the 
great  religious  principle;!  endeavour  to  evince,  THAT  THE 

J  £  W-S-  WER  E  I  N-  -It  ;  :-A  LI  ^  Y  UN  JU:  R  AN   EXTR  AORD  1  N  ^<RY 

PiioviDEXGEf  But  it  'will-  be  paying  me  a  very  unusual 
compliment  to  -ca-li7&tf/'my:  hypothesis  which  the  Bible 
was:  written  io  •  testify  •;  -  which  -all-  Christians  pr&fe&'fa 
believe;  and  'which  -none  tet  Infidels  'directly  deny. 


-However,  if  this  be  the  hypothesis  he  means,  I  need 
xlesire.no  better  a  support.  --But-  the  truth  is,  my  inter 
pretation  of  the  book  of  Job  seeks  support  from  nothing 
but  tiiose  cbirinion  rules  of  grammar  and  logic  on  which 
the  sense  of  ail  kinds  of  writings  are  or  ought  to  •  be 
interpreted. 

.  lie  goes  on  in  this  manner.  For  the  SOLE  purport  -of 
the  sat  red-']  Writer  seems  to  me  to  be  this,  to  cowpow  a 
work  t  licit  should  remain  a  perpetual  document  of  -humility 
and  patience  to  all  £^-*ltf/JjVMj^^ 

fold 


Sect.  4-]     OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.        2% 

fold  consideration,  as  on  the  one  hand  of  the  infinite,  per 
fection,  power,  and  wisdom  of  God;  so  on  the  other,  of  \ 
human    Corruption,  imbecility  y  and  ignorance,  i/isfflpfr-  • 
able  even  in  the  best  of  men.     Such  talk,  in  a'  sermon  to 
his  parish  for  the  sake  of  a  moral  application,,  might  be 
right:  but  to  speak  thus  to  the  learned  world,  is  surely' 
oat  of  season.     The  critic  will  be  apt  to  tell  him  he  has 
mistaken  the  actor  tor  the  subject,  and  might  on  the  same 
principle  as  well  conclude  that  the  purpose  of  yirgifs  . 
Poem  is  not  the  establishment  of  an  empire  in  Italy  ^  but 
-the  personal  piety  of  JEneas.     But  to  be  a  little  more; 
explicit,   as  the  peculiar  nature  of  this  work  demands. 
The  book  of  Job  consists  of  two   distinct  parts;   the/ 
narrative,  contained  in  the  prologue  ami  epilogue;  and 
the  argumentative,  which  composes  the.  body  ot  the  workv? 
Now  when  the  question  is  of  the  subject  of  a  book,  who 
means  other  than  the  body  of  it  ?    Yet  here  our  Author, 
by  a  strange  fatality,  mistaking  the  narrative  part  for  t\\&\ 
argumentative,  .gives  us  the  subject  of  the  Introduction 
and  Conclusion  for  that  of  the  Work  ;  itself.  •••  And  it  is 
very  true,  that  the  beginning  and  the  end  do  exhibit  a- 
perpetual  document  of  humility  and  patience  to  all  goc.d 
wen  in  affliction.     Hut  it  is  as  true,  that  the  body  of  the 
Work  neither  does  .nor  could  exhibit  any  such  document.  • 
First  it  docs  not;  for,  that  humility  and  patience,  whi,dv: 
Job  manifests   before  his  entering  .into  dispute,  is  -siio? 
ceeded  by  rage  and  ostentation  when  he  becomes  heated 
with  unreasonable  opposition.     Secondly,  it.aw/d  nut^. 
because  it  is  altogether  ..argumentative  ;  the  subject  of, 
which  must  necessarily  be  a  proposition  debated,  and  not- 
a  document  exemplified*     A  precept  may  be  coin  eyed  • 
in  history,  but  a  disputation  .  can  exhibit  013  Jy.  a  debated- 
question.     I.  have  shown  what  that  question  is;  and  he, 
instead  of  proving  that  I  have  assigned  a  vywng  #ne,  govs,- 
about  to  persuade  the  reader,  that  there  is  n 

'         ' 


aaVi    ,,.,     ,    .       ;.;   ..jirjr-fj  .••          -^::    ..  -ii;  hi     &  -   !  r-- 

*f;IIe  procee(is,  for  aUho^ghin  the  speech^  th$t  occur  . 
there  ;  be  much  talk  ofj'digion^  virtue,  und  .Pr^dciice^ 
vf  God's  wisdom,  justice,  and  holiness  in  -the  grivevjummt 


s  wsom,    usice,  an     oness  n  -e  gvevjumm 
of  .the  world,  of  one,  pruiripte  of,  all  \tltiugJt*  and  other,* 
most   important    truths,.,  yet   tit  at  :  this   which  -f.fhave.: 
a&xigncdis  (lit  only  qcope  -(if  thz-booM.  ^ill^J^ar  majiifwt 

s  4  to 


264  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

to  every  one,  as  well  from  the  beginning  and  the  end  as 
from  the  economy  of  the  whole.  For  to  soy  all  in  a  word, 
it  first  presents  Job  complaining,  expostulating,  and 
indulging  himself  in  an  ungovernable  grief]  but  scon 
after  (when  as  the  nature  of  the  sacred  Drama  required, 
by  the  contradiction  ofhisjriends,  and  their  sinister  suspi 
cions,  he  became  more  and  more  teased  and  irritated) 
rashly  challenging  God,  and  glorying  in  his  own  inte 
grity:  yet  at  length  brought  back  to  a  due  submission 
and  knowledge  of  himself  .  The  reader  now  sees  that  all 
this  is  just  as  pertinent  as  if  I  should  say,  Mr.  Chilling' 
wort-Its  famous  book  against  Knot  was  not  to  prove  tlte 
religion  of  Protest anis  a  safe  icay  to  salvatioi/,  but  to 
give  the  picture  of  an  artful  caviller  and  a  candid  dis- 
puter.  For,  although,  in  the  arguments  that  occur,  there 
be  much  talk  of  Protestantism,  Popery,  infiilii^ility,  a 
judge  of  controversies,  fundamentals  of  faith,  and  oihcr 
niost  important  matters,  yet  that  this  which  I  have 
Assigned  is  the  only  scope  of  the  book,  will  appear  ma 
nifest  to  every  one,  as  well  from  the  beginning  and  the  end, 
as  from  the  economy  of  the  whole.  For  it  first  of  all 
presents  the  sophist  quibbling,  chicaning,  and  indulging 
himself  in  all  the  imaginable  methods  of  false  reasoning: 
and  soon  alter,  as  the  course  of  disputation  required, 
resting  on  his  own  authority,  and  loading  his  adversary 
with  personal  calumnies;  yet  at  length,  by  the  force  of 
truth  and  good  logic,  brought  back  to  the  point,  confuted, 
exposed,  and  put  to  silence.  Now  if  I  should  say  this 
of  the  book  of  ChUlingu'orth,  would  it  not  be  as  true, 
and  as  much  to  the  purpose,  as  what  our  Author  hath 
i-aiJ  of  the  book  of  Job?  The  matters  in  the  discourse 
pt  the  Rdigkn  of  Protestants  could  not  be  treated  as 
thev  are,  without  exhibiting  the  t\vo  characters  of  a 
sophist  and  a  true  logician.  Nor  could  the  matters  in 
the  book  of  Job  be  treated  as  they  are,  without  exhibiting 
a  good  man  in  afflictions,  complaining  and  expostulating, 
impatient  under  the  contradiction  of  his  friends,  yet  at 
length  brought  back  to  a  due  gubml&ipft,  and  knowledge 
of  himself.  But  therefore  to  make  this  ihe  sole  or  chief 
scope  of  the  book,  (for  in  this  he  varies)  is  perverting  all 
the  rules  of  interpretation. — But  what  misled  him  we 
lave  taken  notice  of  above.  And  he  himself  points  to 

it, 


Sect.  4.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS,       265 

it,  where  he  says,  the  subject  I  have  assigned  to  the  book 
of  Job  appears  the  true  both  from  the  BEGINNING  and 
the  EXD.  It  is  true,  he  adds,  and  from  the  economy  of 
the  whole  likewise. 

Which  he  endeavours  to  prove  in  this  manner : 
For  it  first  presents  Job  complaining,  expostulating, 
and  indulging  himself  hi  an  ungovernable  grief :  but  soon 
after  (when,  as  the  nature  of  the  sacral  Drama  required, 
by  the  contradiction  of  his  friends,  and  their  sinister 
suspicions,  he  became  more  and  more  teased  and  irritated) 
rashly  challenging  God,  and  glorying  in  his  own  inte 
grity:  yet  at  length  brought  back  to  a  due  submission 
and  knowledge  of  himself",  and  then  at  last,  and  not  be 
fore,  receiving  from  God  both  the  reward  and  testimony 
of  his  uprightness.  This  is  indeed  a  fair  account  of  the 
conduct  of  the  Drama.  And  from  this  it  appears,  Jirst, 
that  that  which  he  assigns  for  the  sole  scope  of  the 
hook,  cannot  be  the  true.  For  if  its  design  were  to  give 
a  perpetual  document  of  humility  and  patience,  how  cornes 
it  to  pass,  that  the  author, -in  the  execution  of  this  design, 
represents  Job  complaining,  expostulating,  and  indulging 
himself  in  an  itn governable  grief,  rashly  challenging  God, 
and  glorying  in  his  own  integrity  ?  Could  a  painter, 
think  you,  in  order  to  represent  the  case  and  safety  of 
navigation,  draw  a  vessel  getting  with  much  pains  and 
difficulty  into  harbour,  after  having  lost  all  her  lading  and 
been  miserably  torn  and  shattered  by  a  tempest?  And 
yet  you  think  a  writer,  hi  order  to  give  a  document  of 
humility  and  patience,  had  sufficiently  discharged  his 
plan  if  he  made  Job  conclude  resigned  and  submissive^ 
though  he  had  drawn  him  turbulent,  impatient,  and  al 
most  blasphemous  throughout  the  whole  piece.  Secondly, 
ft  appears  from  the  learned  Author's  account  of  the  con 
duct  of  the  Drama,  that  that  which  I  have  assigned  for 
the  sole  scope  of  the  book  is  the  true.  For  if,  in  Job  s 
distressful  circumstance,  the  question  concerning  mi  equal 
or  unequal  Providence  were  to  be  debated  :  his  friends* 
jf  they  held  the  former  part,  must  needs  doubt  of  his 
integrity;  this  doubt  would  naturally  provoke  Job's  indig 
nation;  and,  when  persisted  in,  cause  him  to  fly  out  into 
the  intemperate  excesses  so  well  described  by  our  Author; 
yet  conscious  innocence  would  at  k  ngth  enable  patience 

to 


2<56  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Parti. 

to  do  its  office,  and  the  conclusive  argument  for  his  inte 
grity,  would  be  his  resignation  and  submission. 
.  The  learned  writer  shuts  up  the  argument  thus.  From 
all  this,  I  say,  it  appears,  that  the  personal  integrity  of 
Job,  and  not  the,  question  concerning  an  equal  or  unequal 
Providence,  is  the  principal  subject  of  the  lock.  He  had 
before  only  told  us  his  opinion ;  and  now,  from  his  opinion, 
he  says  it  appears.  But  appearances,  we  see,  are  deceit 
ful;  as.  indeed  they  will  always  be,  when  .they  arise  only 
out  of  the  fancy  or  inclination,  and  not  from  the  real 
nature  of  things. 

But  he  proceeds  to  push  his  advantages.  For  that 
[i,  'e.  his  personal  integrity]  it  tyas  which  his  friends 
doubted  of,  not  so  much  on  i  account,  of  hi*  afflict  ion,,  as 
for  the  not  hearing  his  affliction  znth  patience,  but  com 
plaining  of  the  justice  of  God.  And  that  he,  who  was 
an  atie  qdviser  vf\. others  to  fortitude 'c^ul  constancy, 
should,  iC'h-en  Mis  oicn  \trial  came,  sink  under  f  he  stroJcq 
of  his  disasters^. — : But -why  &f$,cn  account  of  his  affliction*? 
Do  not  we  find  that  even  now,  under  this  unequal  dis 
tribution  of  things,  censorious,  .rnqn, (and  such  doubtless 
he  will  confess  Jofrs  comforters  to  have  been)  are  but  too 
apt  to  suspect  great  afflictions  for  the  punishment  of  secret 
sins?;;  How  much  more  prone  to  the  same  suspicion 
would  such  men  be  in  the  time  of  Job,  when  the  ways  of 
Providence  were  more  equal?  As  to  his  ijnpatience  hi 
bearing  affliction,  truit  symptom  was  altogether  ambigu 
ous,  and  might  as  likel v  denote  want  :of  fortitude  as  want 
of  innocence,  and  proceed  as  well  from  the  pain  of  an 
ulcerated  body  as  the  anguish  of  a  distracted  conscience. 

Weil,  our  Author  has  brought  the ..  Patriarch  thus  for 
on  his  way  to  expose  his :bad  temper.  From  hence  he 
accompanies  him  to  his  place  of  rest ;.  which,  hq  makes 
to  be  in  a  bad  argument.,  —^ow  a: 7/c;*  -  (says  the  learned 
Writer;  the  most  grievous  trial  cf  ail- mis  added  to  the 
other  evils  of  this  holy  person,  to  be  condemned  by  his 
friends  as  a  profligate,  and  an  hypocrite,  and  to  be  de 
prived,  as  much  as  in  them  lay,  of  his  only  remaining 
support,  .the  testimony  of  a;  good  conscience,  what  was  left 
for  thej(nimp];i]  man  to  do?  lie  accuses  Jiis  J'riends  .of 
pe rjichj  and  cnuttiy ,;;  he  calls  .upon.  God  as  the  witness 
tjnd  avenger  >of  his  integrity  :<  but*  whfn*  neither  God 

interposed 


Sect  4.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       267 

interposed  to  vindicate  Jm  iwiocaicc-,  nor  his  friends  for 
bore  to  urge  their  harsh  censures  arid'tinjust  accusations, 
he  appeals  to  that  last  judgment,  ifr  whieU'  iviih  the 
utmost  confidence  he  affirms  that  he  'knew  that  his-die- 
deemer  would  he  present  to  /////?,  and  that  Gcd  tc'cufd 
dec  fare  in -hi*  favour.  To  understand  the  force  of  this 
representation,  we  must  have  in  mind  this  unquestionable 
truth:  "  That  be  the  subject  of  the  book  what  it  will, 
"yet  if  the  sacred  Writer  bring  in  the  persons  of  the 
"i Drama  disputing,  he  will  take  care  that  they  talk  to  the 
"purpose."  Now  we  both  agree  that  Job's  friends  had 
pretended  to  suspect  liis  integrity.  rl  his  suspicion  it  was 
Job's  business  to  remove :  and,  if  our  Author's  account 
of  the  subject  be  true,  his  only  business.  To  this  end 
he  offers  various  arguments,  which  failing  of  their  effect, 
lie,  at  last  (as  our  Author  will  have  it),  appeals  to  the 
second  coming  of  the  Redeemer  of  Mankind.  But  was 
this  likely  to  satisfy  them  ?  They  demand  a  present 
solution  of  their  doubts,  and  lie  sends  them  to  a  future 
judgment.  Nor  can  our  Author  say,  though  he  would 
insinuate- 'i\}&t  this  was  such  a  .sort  of  appeal  as  dispu 
tants  are  sometimes  forced  to  have  recourse  to,  when 
they  are  run  aground  and  have  nothing  more  to  offer: 
for  Jo b9  after  this,  proceeds  in  the  dispute;  and  urges 
many  other  arguments  \\ith  the  utmost  propriety.  Indeed 
there  is  one  way,  and  but  one,  to  make  the  appeal  per- 
tinehto  and  that  is,  to  suppose  our  Author  mistaken, 
when  he  said  that  the  personal  integrity  e/'Joh,  and  not 
the  question  concerning  an  equal  or  unequal  Providence, 
Km  the  main  subject  of  the  beck  :  and  we  may  venture 
to  Suppose  so -without  much  danger  of  doing  him  wrong: 
for,  the  doctrine  -Qf-afutu  re  judgment  aftmds  a  principle 
whereon  to  determine  the  question  of  an  equal  or  un 
equal  Providence;  but  leaves  the '-'..personal  integrity  of 
Job  just  as  it  found  it.  But  the  teamed i  Author  is  so 
little5  solicitous  for  the  pertinency  of  the  argument,:  that 
h'e •* makes,  as  we  shall  now  see,  its  impertinmce.  one  of 
the-^eat  supports  of  his  system,  -  For  thus  he  goes  on  : 
now  if  the  hinge  of  the  'Cokt^ovursy:had  turned  on 
whether, or  no,  consistently  wilfi  God's  justice,  go,od 
Gbiild  be  afflicted  in  this  'life,  this  declaration  ought 
;  have  ^-finitihtil' the  debate:  'but  if  the  question  were 

concerning 


268  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  I. 

concerning  the  personal  innocence  of  Job,  it  teas  no 
wonder  that  they  still  sung  their  old  song,  and  went  on  as 
then  had  begun,  to  condemn  their  old  afflicted  friend  \ 
since  it  was  in  the  power  of  God  alone  to  explore  tlie 
hearts  of  men,  and  to  know  for  certain  wliether  it  was 
Job's piciy  that  rightly  applied  a  comolativn,  or  whether 
it  was  his  vanity  that  arrogated  a  false  confidence  to 
hhnself.  This  is  a  very  pleasant  way  of  coming  to  the 
.sense  of  a  disputed  passage :  not,  as  of  old,  by  shewing 
it  supports  the  I  Writers  argument,  but  by  shewing  it  sup 
ports  nothing  but  the  Critics  hypothesis.  I  had  taken 
it  for  granted  that  Job  reasoned  to  the  purpose,  and 
therefore  urged  this  argument  against  understanding  him 
as  speaking  of  the  Resurrection  in  the  xixth  chapter : 
"  The  disputants  (say  I,  Div.  Leg.  Book  vi.  §  2.)  arc  all 
"  equally  embarrassed  in  adjusting  the  ways  of  Provi- 
"  dence.  Job  affirms  that  the  good  man  is  sometimes 
"  unhappy  :  the  three  friends  pretend  that  lie  never  can ; 
"  because  such  a  situation  would  reflect  upon  God's 
"justice.  Now  the  doctrine  of  a  resurrection  supposed 
"  to  be  urged  by  Job,  cleared  up  ail  this  embarras.  If 
"  therefore  his  friends  thought  it  true,  it  ended  the  dis- 
"  pute;  it  false,  it  lay  upon  them  to  confute  it.  Yet 
"  they  do  neither:  they  neither  call  it  into  question,  nor 
"  allow  it  to  be  decisive.  But  without  the  least  notice 
"  that  any  such  thing  had  been  urged,  they  go  on  as  they 
"  begun,  to  inforce  their  former  arguments,  and  to  con- 
"  fute  that  which  they  seem  to  understand  was  the  only 
"  one  Job  had  urged  against  them,  viz.  the  consciousness 
"  of  his  own  innocence."  Now  what  says  our  learned 
Author  to  this  ?  Why,  he  gays,  that  if  I  be  mistaken, 
and  he  right,  in  his  account  of  the  book  of  Job,  the  reason 
is  plain  why  the  three  friends  took  no  notice  of  Job's 
appeal  to  a  resurrection;  namely,  because  it  deserved 
none.  As  to  his  being  in  the  right,  the  reader,  I  suppose, 
will  not  be  greatly  solicitous,  if  it  be  one  of  the  conse^ 
quences  that  the  sacred  Reasoner  is  in  the  wrong.  How 
ever,  before  we  allow  him  to  be  right,  it  will  be  expected 
he  should  answer  the  following  questions.  If,  as  he  says, 
the  point  in  the  book  of  Job  was  only  his  personal  inno 
cence,  and  this,  not  (as  I  say)  upon  the  principle  of 
no  innocent  person  punished^  \  would  ask,  how  it  was 

possible 


Sect.  4.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       269 

possible  that  JoUs  friends  and  intimates  should  be  so 
obstinately  bent  on  pronouncing  him  guilty,  the  purity  of 
whose  former  life  and  conversation  they  were  so  well 
acquainted  with  ?  If  he  will  say,  the  disputants  went 
'upon  that  principle ;  I  then  ask,  how  came  Job's  appeal 
to  a  resurrection  not  to  silence  his  opposers  ?  as  it  ac 
counted  for  the  justice  of  God  in  tiie  present  unequal 
distribution  of  things. 

The  learned  Writer  proceeds — This  difficulty  therefore 
bang  removed,  namely ',  tchy  his  friends  were  riot  imme 
diately  put  to  silence  when  Job  had  so  solemnly  and 
magnificently  talked  of  a  future  judgment,  nothing 
hinders  us  from  applying  that  celebrated  text  chap.  xix. 
-not  to  a  temporal  restitution  to  his  former  condition,  but 
to  a  resurrection  to  eternal  life.  How  well  he  has 
removed  the  difficulty,  the  reader  now  sees.  But  he  is 
too  hasty,  when  he  adds,  that  now  nothing  hinders  its 
from  applying  the  celebrated  text  chap.  xix.  to  a  resur 
rection  to  eternal  life.  I  have  shewn,  in  my  Discourse  on 
Job,  that  many  things  hinder  us  from  understanding  it  in 
this  sense,  besides  the  silence  of  the  three  friends ;  such 
as  the  silence  of  Elihu  the  moderator,  nay  even  of  God 
himself  the  determiner  of  the  dispute*.  Which  diffi 
culties  become  still  more  perplexing,  if  indeed  the  sole 
scope  of  the  book  be,  as  our  Author  supposes,  to  give  a 
perpetual  document  of  humility  and  patience  to  alt  good 
men  in  affliction:  for  then  the  doctrine  needed  the  sanc 
tion  of  the  most  deliberate  and  authoritative  speakers. 
Add  to  tiiis,  that  the  learned  Writer's  account  of  the 
author  creates  new  difficulties.  For,  can  we  suppose, 
Moses  would  so  clearly  mention  a  future  judgment  here, 
and  entirely  omit  it  in  the  Pentateuch?  Or  is-it  a  matter 
of  so  slight  moment  that  a  single  mention  of  ifc  would 
suffice?  Indeed,  were  Esdra  (as  I  suppose)  the  author, 
much  more  might  be  said  in  behalf  of  this  interpretation; 
"as  we  have  shewn  that  the  later  Prophets  opened,  by 
degrees,  the  great  principles  of  the  Gospel  Dispensation  : 
of  which  I  would  fain  think  the.  doctrine  .of  \\\z  rzs'ur- 
rtction  of  the  body  to  be  one.  . . 

lie  concludes — But  if,  to  the  arguments  -brought  by 
our  Commentator,  you  add  also  these,-,  uhich  a  -iirittr 
*  Div,  Leg.  i!ook  vi.  §  2.  . 


270  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part*. 

above,  allpraixe,  the  present  Bishop  of  Sarurn,  hath  most 
beauty ulhj  interwoven  in  his  Dissertation  on  The  Opinion 
of  the  Ancients  concerning  the  Circumstances  and  Con 
sequences  of  the  Lapse  of  Mankind,  /  believe  you  zcill 
icant  nothing  to  cGnjirmyou  hi  the  opinion  of  the  antiquity 
of  the  Iwol:,  dtid  iuij  *ensc  of  this  most  perplexed  passage* 
.To  seek  refuge  in  that  excellent  Prelate,  whose  notions 
of  the  nature  and  design  of  the  book  of  Job  overthrow 
all  he  has  been  saying,  and  confirm  all  he  has  been 
opposing,  looks  very  much  like  distress.  However,  if  he 
will  submit  to  the  Bishop's  authority  for  the  scope  of 
the  book  in  general,  I  shall  be  very  willing  to  allow 
iiis  interpretation  of  the  nineteenth  chapter.  Our 
Author  indeed  does  that  great  man's  character  but  justice. 
Yet  how  Dr.  Sclntltem  and  Dr.  Sherlock  came  to  hit  the 
same  palate,  to  me,  I  confess,  is  as  hard  to  reconcile,  as 
how  B&vius  and  Virgil  should  meet  for.  a  model  to  the 
same  writer. 

But  the  name  of  tiiat  great  man  is  auspicious  to  sacred 
truth.  One  can  no  sooner  mention  him,  on  any  occasion 
of  literature,  than  one  sees  him  pointing  out  some  truth 
or  other,  capable,  if  attended  to,  of  clearing  up  whatever 
maybe  in  question.  His  line  Discourse  on  the  Book  of 
Job  abounds  with  instances  of  this  kind.  One  of  which 
falls  here  naturally  i.i  my  way.  And  as  it  seems  the 
least  supported  of  Lis  interpretations,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  greatly  confirms  what  1  have  advanced  concerning 
the  age  of  the  book,  I  shell  endeavour  to  set  it  in  a  just 
light.  The  truth  I  mean  is  in  his  interpretation  of  these 
words  of  Jcb,  B>i  his  tipirlf  the  fietroaisare  garnished', 
his  hand  formed  the  cuoo-r;.! r>  SLRPEXT*.  By  which, 
he  supposes,  is  meant  the  DEVIL,  the  apostate  dragon, 
fyxxuv  aVsrarTK,  as  the  Xcptiiciglnt,  by  thus  translating  it, 
seems  to  have  understood  the  place.  For  he  reasonably 
asks,  How  came  the  jonning  of  a  crooked  serpent  to  be 
mentioned  as  an  instance  of  Almighty  power,  and  to  be  sei:, 
as  it  were,  upon  an  equal  j  not  with  the  creation  of  the 
heavens  and  ail  the  host  of  them. — Can  it  possibly  be 
imagined  (says  he)  that  the  jormlng  the  crooked  serpent 
•meant  no  more  than  that  God  created  snakes  and  adders^. 

*  Cap.  xxvi.  ver.  1:1. 

t  The- Use  and  lutcr.t  of  Prophecy,  &c,  3d  Edit.  pp.  213,214-. 

Certainly, 


Sect.  4.]     OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       27.1 

'  Certainly,  this  could  never  be  the  induing.  But  then  it 
will  be  objected  by  those  who  are  as  loth  to  find  a  devil 
for  their  tempter,  as  a  God  for  their  *  Redeemer  (imagining 
they  are  well  capable  of  performing  both,  parts  them 
selves),  that,  by  the  crooked  serpent,  is  meant  a  great 
constellation  near  the  Arctic  Pole,  so  called;  or,  at  least, 
that  enormous  trail  of  light  to  which  the  Pagans  have 
given  the  name  of  the  Via  Lactea:  either  of  which  will 
beautify  the  sense,  and  ennoble  the  expression  of  the 
context;  the  circumstance,  of  garnishbig  the  heavens, 
being  immediately  precedent — It  must  be  .owned  that 
this  interpretation  has  an  extreme  air  of  probability. 
But  it  is  nevertheless  a  false  one ;  as  I  shall  now  endea 
vour  to  shew. 

It  is  certain  then  that  the  ancient  Hebrews  (if  we  may 
believe  the  Rabbins,  who  seem,  in  this  case,  to  be  unexcep 
tionable  evidence)  did  not,  in  their  astronomy,  represent 
the  stars,  either  single,  or  in  constellations,  by  the  name, 
or  figure,  of  any  animal  whatsoever;  or  distinguish  them 
any  otherwise  than  by  the  letters  of  their  alphabet  arti 
ficially  applied.  And  this,  they  tell  us,  was  their  con 
stant  practice,  till  in  the  latter  ages;  when  they  got 
acquainted  with  the  science  of  the  Greeks :  then  indeed, 
they  learnt  the  art  of  new  tricking  up  their  sphere,  and 
making  it  as  fashionable  as  their  neighbours.  But  they 
did  it  still  with  modesty  and  reserve ;  and  scrupled,  even 
then,  to  admit  of  any  human  figure.  The  reason  given 
ibr  this  prudery  (which  was  the  dunger  of  hklatnj]  is  the 
highest  confirmation  of  the  truth  of  their  account  For 
it  is  not  to  be  believed,  that  when  the  astronomy  and 
superstition  of  Egypt  were  so  closely  colieagued,  and 
that  by  this  very  means,  the  names  given  to  the  constel 
lations,  that  Mows,  who,  under  the  ministry  of  God, 
forbad  the  Israelites  to  make  any  likeness  of  any  thing  in 
heaven  above,  would  suffer  them  to  make  new  likenesses 
there:  which  if  not,  in  the  first  intention,  set  up  to  be 
worshipped,  yet  we  know  never  waited  long  without 
obtaining  that  honour.  From  all  this  it  appears,  that 
neither  Moses  nor  Esdra  could  call  a  constellation  by 
the  name  of  the  crooked  serpent.  The  consequence  ig,. 
that  his  Lordship's  interpretation  is  to  be  received  ;  there 
being  nothing  ehe  of  moment  to  be  opposed  to  its  truth. 

Lut 


272  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  I 

But  this  sense,  we  say,  gives  strong  support  to  what  we 
have  observed,  in  The  Drcine  Legation,  (book  ix.  ch.  i.] 
concerning  the  age  of  the  author.  It  being  there  shewn' 
that,  according  to  the  method  used  by  Providence  for  the 
gradual  opening  of  the  .Gospel  principles,  we  might  look 
to  find,  in  this  very  place  (as  we  in  fact  do  find)  the  first 
more  express  information  concerning  the  real  author  oi 
the  Fall  of  Man,  as  recorded  in  the  third  chapter  oi 
Genesis. 

But,  to  conclude  with  the  learnt d  Editor  of  the  book  of 
Job.  He  had,  I  presume,  given  the  intelligent  reader 
more  satisfaction,  if,  instead  of  labouring  to  evade  two  or 
three  independent  though  corroborating  proofs  of  the 
truth  of  my  hypothesis,  he  had  well  accounted  how  that 
hypothesis,  which  he  affects  to  represent  as  &  false  one, 
should  be  able  to  lay  open  and  unfold  the  whole  Poem 
upon  one  entire,  elegant,  and  noble  plan,  that  does 
honour  to  the  sacred  Writer  who  composed  it.  And  not 
only  so,  but  to  clear  up,  consistently  with  that  plan,  all 
•those  particular  texts,  whose  want  of  light  had  made 
them  hitherto  an  easy  prey  to  critics  and  interpreters 
iron)  every  quarter.  And  this,  in  a  Poem  become  through 
time  and  negligence  so  desperately  perplexed,  that  com 
mentators  chose  rather  to  lind  their  own  notions  in  it  than 
to  seek  for  those  of  the  author.  This,  how  negligently 
soever  the  learned  Writer  may  think  of  it,  the  Public,  1  am 
persuaded,  will  consider  as  a  very  uncommon  mark  of 
truth  ;  and  deserving  of  another  kind  of  confutation  than 
what  he  hath  bestowed  upon  it. 

Section  5. 
[See  Divine  Legation,  Books  i.  ii.  iii.  iv.  v.  vi.] 

HERE  I  should  have  ended,  had  I  not  been  told  there 
was  something  still  more  wanted  than  a  defence  of  par 
ticular  passages  ;  which  commonly  indeed  carry  their  own 
evidence  along  with  them;  and  that  was  a  general  review 
of  the  argument  of  The  Dii'ine  Legation,  so  far  as  it 
was  yet  advanced;  explaining  the  relation  which  the 
several  parts  bear  to  each  other,  and  to  the  whole:  lor 
that  the  deep  professor  who  had  digested  his  theology 
into  awns  and  systems,  and  the  gentle  preacher  who  never 

ventured 


Sect.  5.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS,       273 

ventured  to  let  a -thought  expatiate  beyond  the  limits  of  a 
pulpit  essay,  would  join  to  tell  me,  I  had  promised  to 

DEMONSTRATE    THE    DlVINE    LEGATION    OF    MOSES  ; 

and  that  now,  I  had  written  two  large  volumes  with  that 
title,  all  that  they  could  find  in  them  were  discourses  oh 
the  Foundation  of  Morality ;  the  Origin  of  civil  and 
religious  Society ;  the  Alliance  between  Church  and  State ; 
the  Policy  of  ancient  Lawgivers ;  the  Mysteries  of  the, 
Priests,  and  the  Opinions  of  the  Greek  Philosophers* 
the  Antiquity  of  Egypt,  their  Hieroglyphics,  their  Heroes, 
and  their  Brutal-Worship.  That,  indeed,  at  last,  I  speak 
a  little  of  the  Jewish  Policy,  but  I  soon  break  away  again 
as  from  a  subject  I  would  avoid ;  and  employ  the  remain 
ing  part  of  the  volume  on  the  Sacrijice  of  Isaac,  the  Book 
of  Job,  and  on  primary  nnj  secondary  Prophecies.  But 
what,  say  they,  is  all  this  to  the  DIVINE  LEGATION  of 
MOSES  •? 

Die,  Posthume !  de  tribus  CapelUs. 

—To  call  the  not  ion  a  PARADOX  was  very  well ;  but  not 
to  see  that  I  had  attempted  to  prove  it,  must  be  owned 
to  be  still  better.  I  was  aware  of  this  complaint,  be 
cause  I  knew  with  whom  I  had  to  do ;  and  therefore,  in 
.the  entry  of  my  second  volume,  was  willing  that  CICERO, 
who  had  been  in  the  like  circumstance  himself,  should 
speak  for  me  *. 

But  (as  it  proved)  to  little  purpose.  The  greatness  of 
his  authority,  and  the  docility  of  his  readers,  which  made 
a  few  words  sufficient  in  his  case,  were  both  wanting  in 
mine.  So  that  I  soon  found  myself  under  a  necessity 
of  speaking  for  myself,  or  rather,  for  my  argument, 
Which  as  it  was  drawn  out  to  an  uncommon  length,  and 
raised  upon  a  great  variety  of  supports,  sought  out  from 
every  quarter  of  antiquity,  and  sometimes  from  the  most 
remote  and  darkest,  it  was  the  less  to  be  admired  if  every 

*  Video  lumc  prim  am  ingressionem  in  earn  non  ex  Oratcris  dis- 
putationibus  ductam,  sed  e  media  Philosophic  repetitain,  &  earn 
cjuidem  cum  antiquana  turn  subobscuram,  aut  rfp/le^eTW/owzValiquidj 
aut  certe  admirationis  habituram.  Nam  aut  rmrabantur  quid  hxc 
pertineant  ad  ea  qua?  q-uajrimus :  quibus  satisfacict  res  ipsa  ccgnita, 
ut  non  sine  causa  alte  repeUta  videatur:  aut  reprehendent,  quod 
jnusitatas  vias  indagemus  tritas  relinquanttts.  Jigo  autem  me  srepe 
nova  vidcre  dicere  intelligo  cum  nervetera  die9.j»,  sed  i 
l»Jerisaue.  Cicero.* 

-  XI.  T 


274  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Parti. 

candid  reader  should  not  see  their  full  force  and  various 
purpose ;  and  still  less,  if  the  envious  and  prejudiced 
should  concur  to  represent  it  as  an  inconneeted  heap  of 
discourses  put  together  to  disburthen  a  common-place. 
For  the  satisfaction  therefore  of  the  former,  I  shall  en 
deavour  to  expose,  in  one  clear  and  simple  light,  the 
whole  conduct  of  these  mysterious  volumes. 

Nor  should  the  latter  be  neglected.     Though  'tis  odds 
but  we  part  as  dissatisfied  with  one  another,  as  Bert  rand 
and  his  customer.     Of  whom  the  story  goes,  that  a  grave 
well-dressed  man,  coming  to  the  shop  of  that  ingenious 
in  venter  and  reliever  of  the  distresses  of  all  those  who  are 
too  dull  to  know  what  they  want,  and  too  rich  to  be  at 
ease  with  what   they  have,    demanded   one  of  his    best 
reading  glasses ;  which  when  he  had  examined  upon  all 
sorts  of  print,  he  returned  back  with  solemn  assurance 
that  he  could  not  read  at  all  in  it.     Bertrcuid,  when,  he 
had  recovered  from  the  surprise  of  so  strange  a  pheno 
menon,  fairly  asked  him,  Sir,  could  you  ever  read  at  all? 
To  which  the  other  as  fairly  replied,  Had  I  been  so  happy, 
I  had  not  come  hither  for  yotcr  assistance.    Should  1  not 
therefore,  with  the  same  forecast,  have  asked  these  people, 
"  Gentlemen,  before  I   put  my  argument  for  you  in  a 
"  new  light,  pray  tell  me,  do  you  understand  an.  argument 
(<  in  any  light  at  all?"     But  would  they  have  answered 
with   the   same    ingenuity  ?      They  are   silent.       They 
modestly  let  their  works  speak  for  them.     To  go   oiv 
therefore,  with  our  subject. 

In  reading  the  law  and  history  of  the  Jews,  with  all  the 
attention  I  was  able,  amongst  the  many  very  singular 
circumstances  of  that  amazing  dispensation  (from  each 
of  which,  as  I  conceive,  the  divinity  of  its  original  may 
be  clearly  deduced)  these  two  particulars  more  forcibly 
struck  my  observution,  Jirst,  the  omission  of  the  doctrine 
of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments  in  the 
religion  of  that  people ;  no  instance  of  the  like  nature 
being  to  be  found  throughout  the  whole  history  of  man 
kind  :  in  all  the  infinite  variety  of  Gentile  religions  this 
doctrine  ever  making  a  principal  and  most  essential  par.t, 
The  other  was  no  less  singular,  that  the  founder  of  this 
religion  should  pretend  his  dispensation  was  to  be  admi- 
qistered  by  an  extraordinary  providence ;  that  his  law* 

should 


Sect.  5.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       275 

should  have  all  one  constant  direction  pursuant  to  this 
pretence;  and  that  the  succeeding  writers  of  the  Jewish, 
history  should  all  concur  in  the  same  representation :  no 
lawgiver  or  founder  of  religion  ever  promising  the  like, 
distinction ;  and  no  historian  ever  daring  to  record  so 
singular  a  prerogative. 

As  unaccountable  as  the  former  circumstance  appeared, 
when  considered  separately  and  alone,  yet  when  set 
against  the  latter,  and  their  relations  to  each  other  ex 
amined,  one  illustrious  reason  of  the  omimm  of  the 
doctrine  of  a  future  state  was  not  only  immediately 
perceived,  but,  from  that  very  omission,  the  divinity  of 
the  Jewish  religion  clearly  demonstrated.  Which  as 
unbelievers  had  been  long  accustomed  to  decry  from  that 
very  circumstance,  I  chose  that  preferably  to  all  other, 
as  a  proof  of  THE  DIVINE  LEGATION  OF  MOSES. 
The  argument  is,  in  a  supreme  degree,  strong  and  simple; 
and  not  needing  many  words  to  make  it  understood. 

I.  Religion,  such  as  teaches  a  God,  the  rewarder  of 
good,  and  the  punisher  of  evil  actions,  is  absolutely 
necessary  for  the  support  of  civil  society :  because  human 
laws  alone  are  not  sufficient  to  restrain  men  from  evil  in 
any  degree  necessary  for  the  carrying  on  the  affairs 
of  public  regimen.  But  the  inequality  of  events  here 
below  shaking  the  belief  of  that  Providence  on  w^hich  all 
religion  must  be  founded  (for  he  that  cometh  to  God  must 
believe  that  he  is,  and  that  he  is  a  rewarder  of  them  who 
diligently  seek  hini)  there  was  no  other  way  of  supporting 
and  re-establishing  that  belief  than  by  the  doctrine  of 
a  future  state,  wherein  all  these  inequalities  should  be 
set  even,  and  every  action  receive  its  due  recompence  of 
reward.  The  doctrine  therefore  of  a  future  state  is 
immediately  necessary  to  religion',  and,  through  that, 
ultimately  to  civil  society.  Yet,  here  we  find  a  religion 
without  a  future  state,  professed  with  great  advantage 
through  many  ages  by  a  civil-policied  and  powerful 
people.  It  appears,  from  what  has  been  said  above, 
that,  under  the  common  dispensations  of  Providence,  such 
a  religion  would  be  so  far  from  supporting  society,  that 
it  could  not  even  subsist  itself.  We  must  conclude, 
therefore,  that  the  Jewish  people  were,  as  their  founder 

T  2  ancj 


276  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I 

and  their  historians  pretended,  indeed  under  the  dispen 
sation  of  an  extraordinary  providence. 

II.  Again,  it  appears  from  the  universal  practice  of 
the  ancient  latvgiyetfs,  and  the  principles  of  the  ancient 
sages,  that  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and 
punishments  was  esteemed  thus  necessary  to  religion  and 
society,  under  the  common  dispensations  of  Providence. 
The  Egyptian  policy  and  wisdom  particularly,  from 
whence  those  lawgivers  and  sages  borrowed  theirs,  cul 
tivated  this  doctrine,  for  these  ends,  with  an  amazing 
assiduity.  Now  Moses,  who,  as  we  are  assured  by  the 
infallible  testimony  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  was  learned  in  all 
the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians,  and  whose  laws  themselves, 
as  the  Deist  confesses,  bespeak  him  a  consummate  master 
in  his  art;  this  Jl  loses.  I  say,  when  instituting  a  ntw 
religion,  and  forming  an  uudrHized  people  to  society, 
hath  been  so  far  from  inculcating  the  doctrine  of  a  future 
state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  that  he  hath  even 
Qmitted  to  make  the  least  mention  of  it.  Who  sees  not 
then  that  one  reason  of  the  omission  must  needs  be,  that 
this  wise  lawgiver  understood,  his  religion  and  policy 
might  well  subsist  without  it?  But,  under  the  common 
dispensations  of  Providence,  his  principles  of  Egyptian 
wisdom  had  taught  him,  that  neither  one  nor  the  other 
could  do  so.  What  therefore  are  we  to  conclude,  but 
that  he  himself  was  fully  convinced  of  the  truth  of  what 
he  taught  his  countrymen,  That  they  were  thence  forward 
to  live  Under  the  extraordinary  providence  of  God. 

These  two  proofs  of  my  MAIN  PROPOSITION,  from 
the  thing  omitted,  and  the  person  omitting  (which  as 
they  are  distinct  and  independent  of  one  another,  so  I 
would  desire  the  reader  to  observe  that  they  are  either  of 
them  alone  sufficient  to  establish  rny  demonstration)  may 
be  reduced  to  these  two  SYLLOGISMS  : 

I.  Whatsoever  religion  and  society  have  no   futur0 
state  for  their  support,  must  be  supported  by  an 
extraordinary  providence. 
The  Jewish  religion  and  society  had  no  future  state 

for  their  support. 

Therefore  the  Jewish  religion  and  society  were  sup* 
ported  by  an  extraordinary  providence. 

Again, 


Sect.  5.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       277 

Again,  II.  It  was  universally  believed  by  the  Ancients, 
on  their  common  principles  of  legislation  and 
wisdom,  that  whatsoever  religion  and  society  have 
no  future  state  for  their  support  must  be  supported 
by  an  extraordinary  providence. 

Moses,  skilled  in  all  that  legislation  and  wisdom, 
instituted  the  Jewish  religion  and  society  without 
a  future  state  for  its  support. 

Therefore  Moses  who  taught,  believed  likewise,  that 
this  religion  and  society  were  to  be  supported  by 
an  extraordinary  providence. 

This  is  the  grand  PARADOX  I  have  been  accused  of 
advancing :  in  the  meanwhile,  the  free-thinker  esteems 
it  none  to  contradict  the  universal  voice  of  antiquity ; 
nor  the  system-maker,  to  explain  away  the  whole  letter  of 
sacred  Scripture.  For  had  not  libertines  denied  the 
MAJOR  propositions  of  these  two  syllogisms }  and  certain 
bigoted  believers,  the  MINOR;  my  demonstration  of 
The  Divine  Legation  of  liloses  had  not  only  been  as 
strong,  but  as  short  too  as  any  of  Euclid's :  whose 
theorems,  as  Hobbes  somewhere  truly  observes,  were  but 
the  passions  and  prejudices  of  men  equally  concerned  in, 
would  soon  be  made  as  much  matter  of  dispute  as  any 
moral  or  theological  proposition  whatsoever. 

It  was  not  long  then  before  I  found  that  the  discovery 
of  this  important  truth  would  engage  me  in  a  full  diluci- 
dation  of  my  jour  proposition* :  neither  a  short,  nor  an 
€asy  task.  I  he  tico  jirst  requiring  a  severe  search  into 
the  civil  policy,  religion,  and  philosophy  of  ancient 
times :  and  the  tzvo  latter,  a  minute  inquiry  concerning 
the  nature  and  genius  of  the  Jewish  constitution.  To 
the  first  part  of  this  inquiry,  tliferefore,  I  assigned  the 
Jirst  volume;  and  to  the  otlicr,  tiie  second*. 

L 

I.  The  FIRST  volume  begins  with  proving  the  MAJOR 
proposition  of  thejirst  syllogism,  that  icliat  soever  religion 
ami  society  have  no  future  state  for  their  support,  must 
be  supported  by  an  extraordinary  providence:  Where 
it  is  shewn,  that  •civil  society,  which  was  instituted  as  a 
remedy  against  force  and  injustice,  falls  short  in  many 

*  Books  L  ii.  iii.  &  iv,  v-vi.  originally  appeared  in  two  vols.  4to. 

T  3  instances, 


278  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  L 

instances,  of  its  effect ;  as  it  cannot,  by  its  own  proper 
force,  provide  for  the  observance  of  above  one  third  part 
of  moral  duties ;  and,  of  that  third,  but  imperfectly : 
and,  which  is  still  of  greater  importance,  that  it  totally 
wants  the  first  of  those  two  power*,  reward  and  punish* 
ment,  which  are  owned  by  all  to  be  the  necessary  hinges 
on  which  government  turns,  and  v  ithout  which  it  cannot 
be  carried  on.  To  supply  which  wants  and  imperfections, 
some  other  coactive  power  was  to  be  added.  This  power 
is  shewn  to  be  religion f;  which  teaching  the  providence 
and  justice  of  the  Deity,  provides  for  all  the  natural 
deficiencies  of  civil  society.  But  then  those  attributes, 
as  we  shew,  can  be  supported  only  by  the  doctrine  of  a 
future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments  ;  or  by  a  present 
dispensation  of  things  very  different  from  that  which  we 
experience  to  be  here  administered. 

The  point  being  thus  proved,  the  discourse  proceeds 
in  removing  objections.  The  reader  observes,  that  the 
steps  and  gradations  of  this  great  truth  rise  thus — A 
future  state  is  necessary,  as  it  supports  religion ;  religion 
is  necessary,  as  it  supports  morality ;  and  morality,  as  it 
supports  society.  Hence  I  concluded  the  doctrine  of  a 
future  state  to  be  necessary  to  society.  Now  there  are 
various  degrees  in  libertinism.  Some,  though  they  own 
morality,  yet  deny  religion,  to  be  necessary  to  society : 
others  again  go  still  further,  and  deny  even  morality  to  be 
necessary.  As  these  equally  attempt  to  break  the  chain 
of  my  reasoning,  they  come  equally  under  my  exami 
nation.  And  luckily,  in  the  Jirst  instance,  a  great  name, 
and  in  the  second,  a  great  book,  invited  me  to  this 
entertainment,  i.  The  famous  Mr.  Eayle,  had  attempted 
to  prove  that  religion  was  not  necessary  to  society  ;  that 
morality,  as  distinguished  from  religion,  might  well  supply 
its  place;  and  that  an  ATHEIST  might  have  this  morality. 
His  arguments  in  support  of  these  propositions  1  have 
examined  at  large.  And  having  occasion,  when  I  come 
to  the  last  of  them,  to  inquire  into  the  true  foundation  of 
morality,  I  consider  all  its  pretences ;  inquire  into  all 
its  advantages ;  and  shew  that  obligation,  properly  so 
called,  proceeds  from  will,  and  will  only.  This  inquiry 
•was  directly  to  my  point,  as  the  result  of  it  proves  that 
the  morality  of  the  Atheist  must  be  without  any  true 

foundation, 


Sect  5.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.      279 

foundation,  and  consequently  weak  and  easily  shaken. 
Yet  it  had  a  further  propriety,  as  the  religion,  whose 
divine  original  I  was  here  attempting  to  demonstrate, 
has  founded  moral  obligation  in  will  only ;  and  a  peculiar 
expediency,  as  it  is  become  the  humour  of  the  times  to 
seek  for  this  foundation  m  any  thing  rather  than  in  what 
religion  places  it.  2.  But  the  author  of  the  Fable  of  th& 
Bees  went  a  large  step  further,  and  endeavoured  to 
prove  that  morality  was  so  far  from  being  necessary  to 
society,  that,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  vice,  not  virtue,  which 
rendered  states  flourishing  and  happy.  This  pernicious 
doctrine,  which  would  cut  away  our  argument  by  the  root, 
was  inforced  with  much  laboured  art  and  plausible  insi 
nuation.  I  undertook  therefore  to  examine  and  confute 
the  principles  it  went  upon  :  which  I  presume  to  have 
done  so  effectually,  as  will  secure  the  reader  from  the 
danger  of  being  any  longer  misled  by  it.  In  this  manner 
I  endeavoured  to  prove  the  MAJOR  proposition  of  the 
first  syllogism :  and,  with  this,  the  jirst  book  of  77^ 
Divine  Legation  of  Moses  concludes. 

II.  The  second  begins  with  proving  the  MAJOR  pro 
position  of  the  second  syllogism,  that  It  teas  universally 
believed  by  the  Ancients,  on  their  common  principles  of 
legislation  ami  wisdom,  that  whatsoever  religion  and  so 
ciety  have  no  future  state  for  their  support,  mist  be  sup 
ported  by  an  extraordinary  providence.  This  proof  divides 
kself  into  two  parts,  the  conduct  of  the  lawgivers,  and  the 
opinion  of  the  philosophers.  The  first  part  is  examined 
in  the  present  book,  and  the  second  in  the  following. 

In  proving  the  proposition  from  the  conduct  of  the 
lawgivers,  I  shew,  I.  Their  care  to  PROPAGATE,  First, 
Religion  in  general,  i .  As  it  appears  from  the  reason 
of  things,  viz.  the  state  of  religion  all  x>vcr  the  civilized 
world.  2.  As  it  appears  from  fact,  such  as  their  univer 
sal  pretence  to  inspiration',  which,  H  is  shewn,  was  made 
only  to  establish  the  opinion  of  the  superintendency  of 
the  gods  over  human  affairs :  and  such  as  their  universal 
practice  in  the  manner  of  prefacing  their  laws ;  where 
the  same  superintendency  was  taught  and  inculcated. 
And  here  I  desire  it  may  be  observed,  that  the  proving 
their  care  to  propagate  religion  in  general,  proves,  at 
ithe  same  time,  their  propagating  the  doctrine  of  &  jut  lire 
j  T4  at  ate; 


*So  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  t 

$tate\  because  there  never  was  any  religion  in  the  world 
but  the  Jewish,  of  which  that  doctrine  did  not  make  an 
essential  part.  I  shew,  secondly,  their  care  to  propagate 
the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments 
in  particular.  And,  as  the  most  effectual  method  they 
employed  to  this  purpose  was  the  institution  of  the  MYS- 
TEUIES,  I  give  a  large  account  of  their  rise  and  progress; 
"\vhich  I  shew  to  have  been  from  Egypt  into  Greece. 
The  detection  of  the  AFTOPPHTA  of  these  mysteries, 
which  were  the  unity  of  the  Godhead,  and  the  error  of 
the  grosser  Poll] theism,  not  only  confirms  all  that  is 
advanced  concerning  the  rise,  progress,  and  order  of  the 
several  species  of  idolatry,  but  rectifies  and  clears  up 
much  embarras  and  mistake  even  in  the  best  modern 
critics,  such  as  Cudworth,  Prideauv,  Newton,  $c.  while 
they  ventured,  contrary  to  the  tenour  of  Holy  Scripture, 
to  suppose  that  the  One  God  was  commonly  known  and 
worshipped  in  the  Pagan  world.  For  finding  many,  in 
divers  countries,  speaking  of  the  One  God,  they  concluded 
he  must  needs  have  a  national  worship  paid-  to  hirn ; 
though  the  Scriptures,  both  of  the  Old  and  New  Testa 
ment,  represent  the  Gentiles  in  a  total  ignorance  of  the 
true  God,  and  entirely  given  up  to  Polytheism.  This,  as 
\vesay,  has  occasioned  much  confusion  and  mistake  in  our 
best  writers  on  this  subject,  while  they  would  reconcile 
their  own  conclusions  to  Scripture  premises.  Now  the 
discovery  of  the  aVcpp^a  of  the  mysteries,  enables  us  to 
explain  the  perfect  consistency  between  sacred  and  pro 
fane  antiquity;  which,  left  to  speak  for  themselves,  and 
without  interpreters,  inform  us  of  this  plain  and  consist 
ent  truth,  "  That  the  docrine  of  the  One  God  was  taught 
"  in  all  places,  as  a  profound  secret  to  a  few  in  the  cele- 
"  bration  of  their  mysterious  rites ;  but  that  a  public  or 
V  national  worship  was  paid  to  him  no  where  but  in  the 
".  land  of  Jit  eke  a."  Where,  as  Eusebius  well  expresses 
it,Jor  the  Hebrew  PEOPLE  alone  w.as  reserved  the 
honour  of  being  initiated  into  the  know  ledge  of  the  Creator 
cf  all  things.  And,  of  this  difference,  God  himself  speaks, 
by  the  Prophet,  I  have  not  spoken  in  secret,  in  a  dark 
place  of  the  earth ;  I  said  not  unto  the  seed  of  Jacob,  seek 
ye  me  in  'vain*.  And  the  holy  Apostle  informs  us  of  .the 
*  Isaiah  xlv.  If). 

consequence 


Sect.  5.]     OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       281 

consequence  of  this  mysterious  manner  of  teaching  the 
true  God,  that  when,  by  this  means,  they  came  to  the 
knowledge  of  him,  they  glorified  him  not  as  God*.  To 
confirm  my  account  of  the  mysteries,  I  subjoin  a  critical 
dissertation  on  the  sixth  Book  of  Virgins  jEneis ;  and 
another,  on  the  Metamorphosis  of  Apuleius.  The  first 
of  which  I  prove  to  be  one  continued  description  of  the 
mysteries',  and  the  second,  to  be  written  purposely  to 
recommend  their  use  and  efficacy.  But  by  mischance 
(and  the  only  one  of  this  kind  in  the  two  volumes)  the 
dissertation  on  Apuleius  is  misplaced.  The  reader  will 
observe,  that,  through  the  course  of  this  whole  argument, 
on  the  conduct  of  the  ancient  lawgivers,  it  appears  that 
all  the  fundamental  principles  of  their  policy  were  bor 
rowed  from  EGYPT.  A  truth  that  will  be  made  greatly 
Subservient  to  the  minor  of  my  second  syllogism  (that 
Moses  was  skilled  in  all  the  ancient  legislation  and  wis 
dom,  and  yet  instituted  the  Jewish  religion  and  society 
without  a  future  state  for  its  support)  as  well  when  I 
prove  the  latter  part  of  the  proposition  in  the  second 
volume,  as  the  former  part,  in  the  third ;  where  the 
character  of  Moses  is  vindicated  from  the  objections  of 
infidelity.  From  this,  and  from  what  has  been  said  above 
of  moral  obligation,  the  intelligent  reader  will  take 
notice,  that  throughout  The  Divine  Legation,  I»have 
all  along  endeavoured  to  select  for  my  purpose  such  kind 
of  arguments,  in  support  of  the  particular  question  in 
hand,  as  may,  at  the  same  time,  either  illustrate  the 
truth  of  Revelation  in  general,  or  serve  as  a  principle  to 
proceed  upon  in  the  progress  of  the  argument.  Of 
which  we  shall  give,  as  occasion  serves,  several  further 
instances  in  the  course  of  this  review. 

Thus,  having  shewn  the  legislator's  care  to  propagate 
religion  in  general,  and  the  doctrine  of  a  futnre  state  in 
particular  (in  which  is  seen  their  sense  of  the  inseparable 
connexion  between  them),  I  go  on,  II.  To  explain  the 
contrivances  they  employed  to  PERPETUATE  them :  by 
which  it  may  appear  that,  in  their  opinion,  religion  was 
not  a  temporary  expedient  to  secure  their  own  power, 
but  a  necessary  support  of  civil  government,  i.  The  first 
instance  of  their  care  to  this  end  was,  as  we  shew,  the 

*  ROTO au s  i,  21. 

ESTABLISHING 


282  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I, 

ESTABLISHING  everywhere  a  national  religion  protected 
by  the  laws  of  the  state.  But  men  ignorant  of  true 
religion  could  hardly  avoid  falling  into  mistakes  in  the 
mode  of  this  establishment;  pursuing  a  right  end  by 
very  wrong  means :  therefore,  as  the  subject  of  our  book 
is  no  idle  unconcerning  speculation,  but  such  as  affects 
us  in  all  our  highest  interests  as  men  and  citizens,  I 
thought  a  defence  of  the  justice  and  equity  of  an  ESTA 
BLISHED  RELIGION  would  well  deserve  the  reader's  best 
attention ;  and  this  I  have  given  him,  in  an  explanation 
of  the  true  theory  of  the  alliance  between  church  and 
state,  2.  The  second  expedient  the  legislator  used  for 
perpetuating  religion,  I  shew  was  the  allowance  of  a 
GENERAL  TOLERATION,  which,  as  it  vvould,  for  the  same 
reason,  be  as  wrongly  conceived  as  an  establishment,  I 
have  attempted  to  give  the  true  theory  of  that  likewise. 
Where,  speaking  of  the  cause  and  first  occasion  of  its 
violation,  the  subject  naturally  led  me  to  vindicate  true 
religion  from  the  aspersions  of  infidelity.  And  here  I  shew 
that  the  first  persecution  for  religion  was  not  that  which 
was  committed,  but  that  which  was  undergone,  by  the 
Christian  church.  And  thus  ends  the  second  book  of 
The  Divine  Legation. 

III.  The  third  begins  with  the  latter  part  of  the  proof 
of  the  MAJOR  proposition  of  the  second  syllogism  ;  namely, 
the  opinions  of  the  philosophers.  For  as  the  great  waste 
of  time  hath  destroyed  most  of  the  monuments  of  ancient 
legislation,  I  thought  it  proper  to  strengthen  my  position, 
of  the  sense  of  their  lawgivers,  by  that  of  their  sages  and 
philosophers.  Where  I  shewjfirsf,  from  their  own  words, 
the  sense  they  had  in  general  of  the  necessity  of  the 
doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments, 
to  civil  society.  But  to  set  the  fact  in  the  strongest  light, 
I  next  endeavour  to  prove,  that  even  those  of  them 
(namely,  the  several  sects  of  Grecian  philosophers)  who 
did  not  believe  .this  future  state,  yet,  for  the  sake  of 
society,  sedulously  taught  and  propagated  it.  That  they 
taught  it,  is  confessed.  That  they  did  not  believe  it,  was 
my  business  to  prove.  Which  I  first  do,  by  the  three 
following  general  reasons :  i .  That  they  all  thought  it 
allowable  to  say  one  thing  and  think  another.  2.  That, 
they  perpetually  practised  what  they  thus  professed  to 

be 


Sect  5.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       83 

be  lawful.  And,  3.  That  they  practised  it  with  regard 
to  the  very  doctrine  in  question.  To  explain  and  verify 
the  two  first  of  these  propositions,  I  had  occasion  to 
inquire  into  the  rise,  progress,  perfection,  decline,  and 
genius  of  the  ancient  Greek  philosophy  under  all  its 
several  divisions.  In  which,  as  its  rise  and  genius  are 
shewn  to  have  been  from  Egypt,  we  lay  in  a  still  further 
support  for  the  minor  proposition  of  the  second  syllogism. 

The  discourse  then  proceeds  to  a  particular  inquiry 
into  the  sentiments  of  each  sect  of  philosophy  on  this 
point.  Where  it  is  shewn,  from  the  character  and  genius 
of  each  school,  ,and  from  the  writings  of  each  man, 
that  none  of  them  did  indeed  believe  the  doctrine  of  a 
future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments.  But,  from 
almost  every  argument  brought  for  this  purpose,  it, 
at  the  same  time,  appears  of  how  high  importance  they 
all  thought  it  to  society. 

Further,  to  support  this  fact,  I  prove  next,  that  these 
philosophers  not  only  did  not,  but  could  not  possibly, 
believe  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and 
punishments,  because  it  contradicted  two  metaphysical 
principles  universally  held  and  believed  by  them  concern 
ing  the  nature  of  GOD  and  of  the  SOUL  ;  which  were, 
that  God  could  not  be  angry  y  nor  hurt  any  om ;  and  that 
the  soul  was  part  of  God,  and  resolved  again  into  him. 
In  explaining,  and  verifying  the  reception  of  this  latter 
principle,  I  take  occasion  to  speak  of  its  original ;  which 
I  shew  was  Grecian,  and  not  Egyptian,  as  appears  from 
the  different  genius  and  character  of  the  two  philosophies; 
though  the  spurious  books  going  under  the  name  of 
Hermes,  but  indeed  written  by  late  Greek  Platonists, 
would  persuade  us  to  believe  the  contrary.  The  use  of 
this  inquiry  likewise  (concerning Me  origin  of  this  prin 
ciple)  will  be  seen  when  we  come  to  clear  up  the  character 
of  Moses  as  aforesaid.  But  with  regard  to  the  general 
question  (concerning  the  belief  of  the  philosopher*)  be 
sides  the  direct  and  principal  use  of  it  for  the  support  of 
the  MAJOR  proposition  of  the  second  syllogism,'  it  has 
(as  I  said  before  I  had  contrived  my  arguments  should 
have)  two  further  uses  ;  the  one  to  scree  as  a  principle  hi 
the  progress  of  my  argument ;  the  other  to  illustrate  the 
tntfh  of'  Revelation  in  general.  For,  i .  It  will  serve  for 

ufficient 


284  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

a  sufficient  answer  to  that  objection  of  the  Deists,  to  be 
considered  in  the  last  volume,  that  Moses  did  not  pro 
pagate  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and 
punishments,  because  he  did  not  believe  it :  it  being  shewn, 
fr&mjact,  that  the  not  believing  a  doctrine,  so  useful  to 
society,  w^as  esteemed  no  reason  why  the  legislator  should 
not  propagate  it.  2.  It  is  a  very  strong  proof  of  the 
necessity  of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus,  that  the  sages  of 
Greece)  with  whom  all  the  wisdom  of  the  world  was 
supposed  to  be  deposited,  had  philosophised  themselves 
out  of  one  of  the  most  evident  and  useful  truths  with 
which  mankind  is  concerned.  Nor  need  we  seek  any 
other  justification  of  the  severity  with  which  the  holy 
Apostles  always  speak  of  the  philosophers  or  philosophy 
of  Greece,  than  this,  the  shewing  it  was  directed  against 
these  pernicious  principles;  and  not,  as  both  Deists  and 
Fanatics  have  concurred  to  represent  it,  a  condemnation 
of  human  learning  in  general. 

But  as  now  it  might  be  objected,  that,  by  this  repre 
sentation,  we  lose  on  the  one  hand  what  we  gain  on  the 
other;  and  that  while  we  shew  the  necessity  of  the 
Gospel,  we  run  a  risk  of  discrediting  its  reasonableness: 
for  that  nothing  can  seem  to  bear  harder  upon  this,  than 
that  the  best  and  wisest  persons  of  antiquity  did  not 
believe  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments :  as 
this,  I  say,  might  be  objected,  we  have  given  a  full  answer 
to  it ;  and,  to  support  our  answer,  shewn,  that  the  two 
extremes  of  this  representation,  which  divines  have  been 
accustomed  to  go  into  by  contrary  ways,  are  attended 
with  great  and  real  mischief  to  Revelation.  While  the 
only  view  of  antiquity,  which  yields  solid  advantage  to  the 
Christian  cause,  is  such  a  one  as  this  here  given  ;  such  a 
one  as  shews  natural  reason  to  be  clear  enough  to  perceive 
truth,  and  the  necessity  of  its  deductions  when  proposed; 
but  not  generally  strong  enough  to  discover  it,  and  draw 
right  deductions  from  it.  And  we  presume  the  objectors 
may  allow  this  to  be  the  true,  as  we  have  Cicero  himself 
for  ouf  warrant,  who,  with  an  ingenuity  becoming  his 
profound  knowledge  of  human  nature,  thus  decisively 
expresses  himself:  "  Nam  neque  tarn  est  acris  acies  in 
"  naturis  hominum  et  ingeniis,  ut  res  tantas  quisquam, 
*'  nisi  monstrataSj  possit  videre ;  neque  tanta  tamen  in 

"  rebus- 


Sect.  5-1    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       285 

"  rebus  obscuritas,  ut  eas  non  peritus  acri  vir  ingenio 
'"  cernat,  si  modo  adspexerit*,"  In  explaining  this  mat 
ter,  it  is  occasionally  shewn  that  of  the  ancient  and 
modern  systems  of  deist ical  morality,  the  confessedly 
superior  perfection  in  the  latter  is  entirely  owing  to  the 
unacknowledged  aid  of  Revelation. — Thus  the  reader  sees 
in  what  manner  we  have  endeavoured  to  prove  the 
MAJOR  propositions  of  the  two  syllogisms,  that  whatso 
ever  religion  and  .society  have  no  future  state  for  their 
support,  must  be  supported  by  an  extraordinary  provi 
dence:  and  that  this  was  universally  believed  by  the 
Ancients,  on  their  common  principles  of  legislation  and, 
li'isdom.  For,  having  shewn  that  religion  and  society  were 
unable,  and  believed  to  be  unable,  to  support  themselves 
under  an  ordinary  providence  without  a  future  state ;  if 
they  were  supported  without  that  doctrine,  it  could  be, 
and  could  be  believed  to  be,  only  by  an  extraordinary 
providence. 

But  now,  as  this  proof  is  conducted  through  a  long 
detail  of  circumstances,  shewing  the  absolute  necessity  of 
religion  in  general  to  civil  society,  and  the  sense  which  all 
the  wise  and  learned  of  antiquity  had  of  that  necessity ; 
lest  this  should  be  abused  to  countenance  the  idle  and 
impious  conceit,  that  religion  teas  the  Invention  of  poli 
ticians,  I  concluded  the  third  book  and  the  volume  toge 
ther,  with  proving,  that  the  notion  is  both  impertinent 
and  false.  Impertinent,  for  that,  were  this  account  of 
religion  right,  it  would  not  follow  that  religion  itself  was 
visionary;  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  it  was  most  real, 
and  supported  on  the  eternal  relations  of  things  :  false, 
for  that  religion,  in  fact,  existed  before  the  civil  magi 
strate  was  in  being.  But  my  end  in  this  was  not  barely 
to  remove  an  objection  against  the  truths  here  delivered ; 
but  to  prepare  an  opening  for  those  which  were  \Q follow. 
For  if  religion  were  so  useful  to  society,  and  yet  not  the  in 
vention  of  the  magistrate,  we  must  seek  its  origin  in  another 
quarter :  either  from  Nature,  or  Revelation^  or  both. — • 
Such  is  the  subject  of  the  first  volume  of  The  Divine 
Legation :  which,  as  I  thought  proper  to  publish  sepa 
rately,  I  contrived  should  not  only  contain  part  of  that 
proof,  but  likewise  be  a  complete  treatise  of  itself 
*  De  Orat,  l.iii.c.  xxxi. 

establishing 


286  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  L 

establishing  one  of  the  most  important  truths  with 
\vhich  we  have  to  do,  viz.  The  necessity  of  religion  for 
the  support  of  civil  government.  And  if,  in  this  view, 
I  have  been  more  than  ordinary  minute,  while  treating 
some  capital  articles  in  support  of  that  question,  I  pre 
sume  I  shall  not  want  the  reader's  pardon. 

II. 

We  come  now  to  the  SECOND  volume  of  The  Divine 
Legation;  which  is  employed  in  proving  the  MINOR 
propositions  of  the  two  syllogisms ;  the  first,  That  the 
Jewish  religion  and  society  had  no  future  state  for  their 
support ;  the  other,  That  Moses,  skilled  in  all  the  ancient 
legislation  and  wisdom,  instituted  the  Jewish  religion  and 
society  without  a  future  state  for  its  support.  But  in 
proving  the  MINOR,  a  method  something  different  from 
that  observed  in  proving  the  MAJOR  propositions  was  to 
be  followed.  The  MAJOR,  in  the  first  volume,  were 
proved  successively,  and  in  their  order ;  but  in  this,  the 
MINOR  propositions  are  inforced  all  the  way  together: 
and  this,  from  the  reason  of  the  thing ;  the  facts  brought 
to  prove  the  doctrine  omitted,  at  the  same  time,  acci 
dent  ally  shew  the  omission  designed ;  and  the  facts,  brought 
to  prove  it  designed,  necessarily  shew  it  omitted.  To  pro 
ceed  therefore  with  the  subject  of  the  second  volume. 

IV.  1  just  before  observed,  that  the  conclusion  of  the 
first  volume,  which  detected  the  absurdity  and  falsity 
of  the  atheistic  principle,  that  religion  was  a  creature  of 
the  state,  opened  the  way  to  a  fair  inquiry  whether  its 
original  were  not  as  well  from  Revelation  as  from  natural 
reason. 

In  the  introduction  therefore  to  this  volume,  I  took 
the  advantage  which  that  open  afforded  me,  of  shewing 
that  the  universal  pretence  to  revelation  proves  some 
revelation  must  be  true  :  that  this  true  Revelation  must 
have  some  characteristic  marks  to  distinguish  it  from  the 
false :  and  that  these  marks  are  to  be  found  in  the  insti 
tution  of  Moses.  But  thus  far  only  by  way  of  introduction, 
and  to  lead  the  reader  more  easily  into  the  main  road  of 
our  inquiry;  by  shewing  him  that  we  pursued  no  desperate 
adventure  while  we  endeavoured  to  deduce  the  divinity, 
of  Moses  s  law  from  the  circumstances  of  the  law  itself. 

I  proceeded 


Sect.  5.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.      287 

I  proceeded  then  to  the  proof  of  the  MINOR  propo 
sitions,  That  the  Jewish  religion  and  society  had  no  future 
state  for  their  support;  and  that  their  lawgiver  pur 
posely  omitted  it.  To  evince  these  truths,  with  sufficient 
evidence,  the  nature  of  that  institution  was  to  be  w^ell 
understood.  But  to  form  a  right  idea  of  that,  it  was 
expedient  we  should  know  the  mannen  and  genius  of  the 
Hebrew  people,  and  the  character  and  abilities  of  their 
lawgiver.  Now  these  having  been  entirely  fashioned  on 
Egyptian  models,  it  was  further  expedient  we  should 
know  the  state  of  Egyptian  superstition  and  learning  in 
those  early  ages. 

In  order  to  this,  therefore,  1  first  advanced  this  pro 
position,  That  the  Egyptian  learning  celebrated  in  Scrip 
ture,  and  the  Egyptian  superstition  there  condemned, 
were  the  very  karning  and  superstition  represented  by  the, 
Greek  writers,  as  the  honour  and  opprobrium  of  that 
kingdom.  Where,  I  first  state  the  question,  and  shew 
the  equal  extravagancies  of  both  parties  in  unreasonably 
advancing  or  depressing  the  high  antiquity  of  Egypt. 

I  then  support  my  proposition,  first  by  fact,  the  testi 
mony  of  holy  Scripture,  and  of  the  ancient  Greek 
writers  set  together,  and  supporting  one  another. 

Secondly  by  reason,  in  an  argument  deduced  from  the 
nature,  origin,  and  various  use,  of  their  so  famed  HIERO 
GLYPHICS.  Where  it  is  shewn,  i.  That  these  were 
employed  as  the  sole  vehicle  of  Egyptian  learning  even 
after  the  invention  of  letters.  For  which  no  good  rea 
son  can  be  assigned  but  this,  that  they  were  employed  to 
the  same  purpose,  before.  Now  letters  were  in  use  in 
the  time  of  Moses.  2.  Again,  it  is  further  shewn  that 
the  ON  i  ROC  HIT  i  cs  borrowed  their  art  of  deciphering 
from  hieroglyphic  symbols.  But  hieroglyphic  .symbols 
were  the  mysterious  vehicle  of  the  Egyptian  learning 
and  theology.  Now  onirocritic,  or  the  art  of  interpreting 
dreams,  was  practised  in  the  time  of  Joseph.  3.  And 
again,  that  hieroglyphic  symbols  were  the  true  original  of 
ANIMAL  WORSHIP  in  Egypt.  Now  animafcworship  was 
established  before  the  times  of  Moses.  From  all  this  it 
appears  that  Egypt  was  of  that  high  antiquity,  which 
Scripture  and  the  best  G reek  writers  represent  it.  By 

which 


288  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  L 

which  we  come  to  understand  what  were  the  specific 
manners  and  superstitions  of  Egypt  in  tiie  time  of  Moses; 
they  being,  as  now  appears,  identically  the  same  with 
what  the  Greek  writers  have  delivered  to  us.  In  the 
course  of  this  proof  from  reason,  in  opening  at  large  the 
nature,  origin,  and  various  kinds  of  Egyptian  hierogly 
phics,  I  interweave  (as  the  necessary  explanation  of  rny 
subject  required)  a  detailed  history  of  the  various  modes 
of  ancient  information  by  speech  and  action.  As  (on  the 
same  account)  in  the  original  of  brute-worship,  I  give  the 
history  of  the  various  modes  of  ancient  idolatry  in  the 
order  they  arose  out  of  one  another.  Now  these  I  have 
not  only  made  to  serve  in  support  of  the  question  I  am 
here  upon;  but  likewise  in  support  of  a  Jut  lire,  and  a 
past.  For,  in  this  history  of  the  various  modes  of  ancient 
information  was  laid,  as  the  reader  will  find,  the  founda 
tion  of  my  discourse  on  the  Nature  of  ancient  Prophecies, 
in  the  sixth  book ;  the  connexion  of  which  discourse  with 
my  main  subject,  and  its  high  importance  to  religion  in 
general,  will  be  explained  when  we  come  to  that  place : 
and,  in  the  history  of  the  various  modes  of  ancient  idolatry, 
he  may  see  my  reasoning  in  the  latter  end  of  the  third 
book,  against  the  Atheistic  origin  of  religion,  supported 
and  confirmed.  So  studious  have  we  been  to  observe 
what  a  great  master  of  reason  lays  down  as  the  rule  and 
test  of  good  disposition,  that  every  former  part  may 
give  strength  unto  all  tl tat  follow,  and  every  latter  bring 
light  unto  ail  before. 

But  the  high  antiquity  of  Egypt,  though  proved  from 
antiquity  itself,  seemed  not  enough  secured  while  the 
authority  of  one  great  modern  remained  entire  and  un 
answered.  In  the  next  place,  therefore,  I  ventured  to 
examine  Sir  /.  Newton. s  Chronology  of  the  Egyptian 
Empire,  as  it  is  founded  in  the  supposed  identity  of  Osiris 
and  Sesostris;  which  I  shew  not  only  contradicts  all 
profane,  but,  what  is  more,  all  sacred  antiquity ;  and,  still 
more,  the  very  nature  of  things.  In  the  course  of  this 
confutation,  the  causes  of  that  endless  confusion  in  the 
ancient  Greek  history  and  mythology  are  inquired  into 
and  explained ;  which  serves,  at  the  same  time,  to  confirm 
and  illustrate  all  that  hath  been  said,  occasionally  iu 
2  the 


Sect.  5;]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       289 

the  first  volume,  concerning  the  origin  and  progress  of 
idolatry,  the  genius  of  Pagari  religion,  their  modes  of 
worship,  and  their  theological  opinions. 

Thus  far  concerning  the  high  antiquity  of  Egypt. 
Which,  besides  the  immediate  purpose,  of  leading  us  into 
a.  true  idea  of  the  Jewish  institution,  hath  these  further 
uses.  We  have  seen,  in  the  foregoing  volume,  that 
Egypt,  as  it  was  most  famed  for  the  arts  of  legislation, 
so  it  most  of  all  inculcated  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state 
of  rewards  and  punishments.  Now  if  Egypt  were  of  the 
high  antiquity  I  contend  for,  the  doctrine  was  inculcated 
in  the  time  of  the  Hebrew  captivity :  the  Israelites 
therefore  who  lived  so  long  in  Egypt,  and  had  so  tho 
roughly  imbibed  the  religious  notions  of  the  place,  must 
heeds  have  been  much  prejudiced  in  favour  of  so  reason 
able  and  flattering  a  doctrine :  and,  consequently,  their 
Lawgiver,  who  had  been  bred  up  in  all  the  learning  of 
Egypt,  if  he  had  acted  only  by  human  direction,  must; 
needs,  in  imitation  of  his  masters,  have  taken  advantage 
of  this  favourable  prejudice  to  make  the  doctrine  of  a 
future  state  the  grand  sanction  of  his  religion  and  law* 
Again,  the  proof  of  the  high  antiquity  of  Egypt  was  a 
necessary  vindication  of  Sacred  Scripture;  which  all 
along  declares  for  that  antiquity.  But  which  the  Deist 
having  endeavoured  to'  take  advantage  of  agaiiist  Moses 's 
claim  to  inspiration,  believers  were  growh  not  unwilling 
to  explain  away.  Arid  while  this  CHRONOLOGY  offered 
itself  to  support  the  Bible  divinity^  they  seemed  little 
attentive  to  the  liberties  it  took  with  the  Bible  history  i 

To  proceed :  in  order  to  bring  on  this  truth  of  the 
high  antiquity  of  Egypt  nearer  to  my  purpose,  I  next- 
advanced  this  second  proposition.  That  the  Jewish  people 
were  extremely  fond  of  Egyptian  manners,  and  did  fre 
quently  fall  Into  Egyptian  superstitions :  imd  that  many 
of  t lie  laws  given  to  them  by  tlie  ministry  of  Moses  were 
instituted  partly  In  compliance  to  their  prejudices^  and 
partly  in  opposition  to  ihtfse  superstitions.  Through  the 
proof  of  fae  first  part  of  the  proposition  was  proposed 
to  be  shewn  the  high  probability  of  an  institution 
formed  with  reference  to  Egyptian  manners;  anxi  through 
the  proof  of  the  second,  a  demonstration  that  it  was,  irr 
factj  so  formed.  In  the  progress  of  tbis  argument  is 

VOL,  XL  U  v 


5QO  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  t 

given  au  historical  account  of  the  arriazing  perversity  of 
.Ft'x'ifih  people,  from  the  time  of  Closes  $  first  mission, 
to  their  settlement  in  the  land  ofCffttfiai?.  Which  serves 
not  only  to  evince  the  fact  we  are  here  updn,  their  fond- 
heftf  for  Egyptian  w//;  v^;v.-;  but  to  prove  (what  will  Stand 
us  in  stead  hereafter!  tliaf  a  people  so  obstinate  and 
headstrong  needed,  in  the  institution  of  their  civil  govern 
ment  and  religion,  all  possible  curbs  to  disorder ;  of  which, 
for  this  end,  tire  doctrine  of  &  future  state  was  ever  held 
the  chief  in  ancient  policy. 

But  now,  as  it  might  be  objected,  that  while  I  am 
endeavouring  to  get,  this  way,  into  the  interior  of  the 
Jewish  constitution,  I  open  a  door  to  the  ravages  of 
infidelity ;  it  was  thought  necessary,  in  order  to  prevent 
their  taking  ad  vantage  of  the  great  truth  contained  under 
the  last  proposition,  to  guard  it  by  the  two  following, 

First,  That  .Moses's  Egyptian  learning,  and  the  lazry 
instituted  in  compliance  to  the  people*  prejudices,  and  in 
opposition  to  Egyptian  .superstitious,  are  no  reasonable 
objection  to  the  divinity  of  his  mission.  Where,  in 
ans'Tverinir  an  objection  to  the  proof  of  the  jirst  part  of 
this  proposition,  I  had  occasion  to  explain  the  nature  and 
on;  '  *.?  wbools  of  the  Prdphets:  which,  the  reader 

will  find  of  this  further  use,  to  give  strength  and  sup 
port  to  what  is  sakl,  in  the  xirth  bo6k,  of  the  'Ntiture  of 
Prophecy;  and  particularly  to  what  is  remarked  of 
G-rotims  mistakes  in  his  manner  of  interpreting  them. 
And,  after  having  established  the  proof  of  the  second 
part,  from  the  nature  of  things,  I  examine  ^all  the  argu 
ments  which  have  been  urged  to  the  contrary,  by  the 
learned .//« -rman  ff  ritsii/.s,  in  his  JBgijptiticty  as  that  bosk 
had  beeo  publicly  recommended,  for  a  distinct  and 'solid 
cmfutaiion  of  Sp^nCeV,  De  Legibus  Hebr&oruhi  ri- 
tualibm. 

'  But  I  go  further  in  the  sectirtd  proportion ;  and  prove, 
that  //•  ^fances  of  Moses  s  Egyptian  learn- 

.  'MM/  the  ,'frtis  Instituted  in  compliance  to  the  people's 
prijiuli.(:e.\.  and  in  opposition '  to  Egyptian  wtersttfittiibi 
pm  a  ^/r-^vif  confirmation  of  the  awinitjj  of  kis  mhsion ; 
Tor,  tl.i.,  ^n  tiie  arts  of  Egypt  -lation, 

eoulu  never,  on  his  own  head,  have  tfiought  6f  reducing 
au  unruly  people  to  government  'on  "maxims  of  religion 
13 


Sect.  5.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       291 

and  policy  fundamentally  opposite  to  all  the  principles  of 
Egyptian  wisdom.  And  yet  Moses  did  this,  in  enjoining 
the  worship  of  the  true  God  only;  and,  in  omitting  the 
doctrine  of  &  future-  state.  And  again,  that  one  who 
falsely  pretended  to  inspiration,  and  to  receive  the  whole 
*  frame  of  a  national  constitution  from  God  himself,  would 
never  have  risked  his  pretences  by  a  ritual  law,  which 
the  people  could  see  was  politically  instituted,  partly  in 
compliance  to  their  prejudices,  and  partly  in  opposition 
to  Egyptian  superstitions.  And  with  this  tlie  fourth 
book  concludes. 

V.  What  hath  been  hitherto  said  was  to  let  us,  in  gene 
ral  only,  into  the  genius  of  the  Jewish  policy ;  in  order 
to  our  judging  more  exactly  of  the  peculiar  nature  of 
its  government;  that  from  thence,  we  might  be  enabled  to 
determine,  with  full  certainty,  on  the  matters  in  question, 
as  they  are  contained  in  the  two  MINOR  propositions. 

The  Jlftk  book,  therefore,  comes  still  nearer  to  the 
point,  and  considers  this  peculiar  nature,  of  the  Jeicisk 
government.  Which  is  shewn  to  have  been  a  THEO 
CRACY,  properly  so  called,  where  God  himself  became 
the  supreme  civil  magistrate.  This  form  of  government 
is  shewn  to  have  been  necessary  for  the  times.  In  prov 
ing  which,  the  law  of  punishing  for  opinions,  under  a 
theocracy,  is  occasionally  explained.  And  as  the  Deists 
have  been  accustomed  to  object  this  punishment  against 
the  divine  original  of  the  Law,  it  is  justified  at  large,  on 
the  principles  of  natural  equity :  which  serves,  at  the 
same  time,  both  to  confirm  the  reality  of  a  theocracy , 
and  also  to  give  new  strength  and  support  to  what 
had  been  said  on  the  subject  vi  Toleration,  in  the  Jirst 
volume. 

2.  This  Theocracy,  which  was  necessarily  was  (as  I 
then  shew  from  the  notions  and  opinions  of  those  times 
concerning  Tuielary  Deities)  pi  the  most  easy  introduction 
likewise.  But  here,  speaking  of  the  method  of  Provi 
dence  in  employing  the  prejudices  of  men  to  the  great 
ends  of  its  .dispensations,  I  observe,  that  whenever 
Divine  Wisdom  thought  lit  so  to  do,  it  was  always 
accustomed  to  insert  some  characteristic  note  of  differ 
ence,  to  mark  the  institution,  it  established,  for  its  own  : 
which  leading  nip  to  enumerate  some  of  those  nates, 

u  2  I  insisted 


REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

I  insisted  chiefly  upon  this,  "  that  the  Mosaic  religion 
"  was  built  upon  a  former,  namely,  the  Patriarchal: 
"  whereas  the  various  religions  of  the  Pagan  world  were 
"  all  unrelated  to,  and  independent  of  one  another.'"  As 
this  was  a  circumstance  necessarily  to  be  well  understood 
for  a  perfect  comprehension  of  the/rav'.vA  Establishment 
(the  subject  in  hand),  I  took  the  advantage  which  the 
celebrated  author  of  the  Grounds  and  Reasons  of  the 
Christian  Religion  had  afforded  me,  (who,  to  discredit 
Revelation,  has  thought  lit  to  affirm  the  direct  contrary)  of 
supporting  it  against  him  in  an  examination  of  his  facts 
and  reasonings  on  this  head. 

3.  I  proceed,  in  the  next  place,  to  shew,  that  those 
prejudices  which  made  the  introduction  of  a  theocracy 
so  eaxy,  occasioned  as  easy  a  defection  from  the  laws  of 
it.  In  which  I  had  occasion  to  explain  the  nature  of  the 
worship  of  tutelary  gods,  and  of  that  idolatry  wherewith 
the  Jewish  people  were  so  obstinately  besotted.  Both 
which  discourses  serve  these  further  purposes,  the  former, 
to  support  and  explain  what  had  been  said,  in  the  first 
volume,  concerning  the  genius  of  Pagan  intercommunity 
of  worship:  and  the  latter  (besides  a  particular  use  to 
be  made  of  it  in  the  third  volume)  to  obviate  a  common 
objection  of  unbelievers;  who,  from  this  circumstance  of 
the  continual  r! election  of  the  Jew s  into  idolatry,  would 
infer,  that  i'od's  dispensation  to  them  could  never  have 
been  so  illustrious  as  their  history  represents  it:  these 
men  supposing  that  this  idolatry  consisted  in  renouncing 
the  law  of  Moses ,  and  renouncing  it  as  dissatisfied  of  its 
truth :  both  which  suppositions  are  here  shewn  to  be 
felsc. 

Having  explained  the  nature  of  the  theocracy,  and  the 
attendant  circumstance*  of  its  erection ;  we  then  inquire 
concerning  its  duration.  A  theocracy,  therefore,  in 
strict  truth  and  propriety,  we  shew,  continued  throughout 
the  whole,  period  of  the  Jewish  state,  even  to  the  coining 
of  Christ.  The  use  to  be  made  hereafter,  of  this  truth, 
is  to  inforce  the  connexion  between  the  two  religions ;  a 
circumstance,  though  much  neglected,  incumbent  on  every 
rational  defender  of  Revelation  to  support. 

We  come  next  to  the  peculiar  consequences  attending 
the  administration  of  a  theocracy:  which  bring  us  yet 

.    nearer 


Sect.  5.]     OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       293 

nearer  to  our  point.  Here,  it  is  shewn  that  one  necessary 
consequence,  was  an  EXTUAORDIXAKY  PROVIDENCE. 
And  agreeably  to  this,  (as  deduced  Iroui  the  nature  of 
things}  that  holy  Scripture  does  in  fact  exhibit  to  us  this 
very  representation  of  God's  government :  and  further, 
that  there  are  many  favourable  circumstances,  in  the 
character  of  the  Jarish  people,  to  induce  a  candid  ex 
aminer  to  conclude  this  representation  true.  Though 
here  the  reader  should  observe,  that  my  argument  does 
not  require  me  to  prove  more,  in  this  place,  than  that  au 
extraordinary  providence  is  represented  in  Scripture,  to 
be  administered  :  The  proof  of  its  real  administration  it 
is  the  purpose  of  this  w.ork  to  give  through  the  great 
MEDIUM  of  my  Theses,  the  Omission  of  the  Doctrine  of 
a  future  State  of  Rewards  and  Punishments.  If  there 
fore  I  clearly  shew,  from  the  whole  Jewish  history,  that 
the  matter  is  thus  represented,  the  inference  from  my 
medium,  which  proves  the  representation  true,  answers 
all  objections,  both  as  to  our  inadequate  conception  of 
the  manner  how  such  a  providence  could  be  administered ; 
and  as  to  certain  passages  in  holy  Scripture  that  seem  to 
clash  with  this  its  general  representation.  And  yet  both 
these  objections  (to  leave  no  shadow  of  doubt  unsatisfied) 
are  considered  likewise :  but  as  important  as  this  fact,  of 
an  extraordinary  providence  represented,  is,  even  to  our 
present  purpose,  it  has  a  still  further  use  when  employed 
amongst  those  distinguishing  w#rfo  of  the  truth  of  Alosess 

"  .  ^  *».  ; 

divine  mission  in  general.  For,  from  hence,  we  may 
observe,  the  unnecessary  trouble  and  hazard  to  which  he 
exposed  himself,  had  that  mission  been  only  pretended. 
Had  he,  like  the  rest  of  the  ancient  lawgivers,  done  no  more 
than  barely  affected  inspiration,  he  had  then  no  occasion 
to  propagate  the  belief  of  a  constant  equal  providence ;  a 
dispensation,  if  only  feigned,  so  easy  to  be  confuted. 
J3ut,  by  deviating  from  their  general  practice,  and  per 
suading  the  people,  that  the  inspiring  tutelary  god  would 
become  their  king,  he  laid  himself  under  a  necessity  of 
teaching  an  extraordinary  providence ;  and  perpetually 
insisting  on  it  as  the  great  sanction  of  his  laws ;  a  dead 
weight,  if  he  were  an  impostor,  that  nothing  but  down 
right  folly  could  have  brought  him  to  undergo. 

^  w  3  TQ 


294  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL  >     [Part  I, 

To  proceed  :  after  having  laid  this  strong  and  necessary 
foundation,  we  come  at  length  -DIRECTLY  to  our  point. 
If  the  Jewish  government  were- a  theocracy,  it  was 
administered  by  an  extraordinary  providence;  the  con 
sequence  of  which  is,  that  temporal  reivards  ami  punish 
ments  (the  effects  of  this  providence)  and  not  future, 
were  the  SANCTION  of  their  law  and  religion.  Thus  far 
therefore  hath  the  very  nature  of  the  Jewish  government 
brought  us.  And  this  methinks  is  bringing  us  fairly  up 
to  the  proof  of  our  two  MINOR  propositions.  So  neces 
sary,  as  the  reader  now  sees,  was  this  long  discourse  of 
the  nature  of  the  Jewish  government.  But,  to  prevent 
all  cavil,  I  go  further;  and  shew,  that  the  doctrine  of  a 
jut  are  state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  which  could 
not,  from  the  nature  of  things,  be  the  sanction  of  the  Law, 
vnr,?  not,  in  fact,  taught  in  it  at  all;  but  purposely  omit 
ted  by  their  great  Prophet.  This  is  proved  from- several 
circu  ID  stances  in  the  books  of  Genesis  and  the  Laic. 
Where,  to  shew,  that  Moses,  who,  it  is  seen,  stttdtousty 
omitted  it,  was  well  apprised  of  its  importance,  I  prove 
that  the  punishment  of  children  for 'the  crimes  of  their 
parents  was  brought  into  this  institution  purposely  to 
supply  some  advantages  to  government,  which  the  doc 
trine  of  a  future  state  affords.  This,  at  the  same  time 
that  it  further  supports  the  opinion  of  no  future  staie  in. 
the  Mosaic  dispensation,  gives  me  a  fair  occasion  of  vin 
dicating  the  justice  and  equity  of  the  laic,  of  punishing 
children  for  the  crimes  of  their  parents]  and  proving  the 
perfect  agreement  between  Closes  and  the  Prophets  con 
cerning  it :  which  had  been,  in  all  ages,  the  stumbling- 
block  of  infidelity. 

But  we  go  yet  further,  and  shew,  that,  as  Moses  forbore 
to  teach  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and 
'  punish rnents,  so  neither  had  the  'ancient  Jezcf,  that  is  to 
say.  the  body  of  the  people,  any  knowledge  of  it.  The 
proof  is  striking,  and  scarce  to  be  resisted  by  any  party 
or  profession  but  the  'system-maker's.  The  Bible  contains 
a  very  circumstantial  history  of  this  people  from  the  time 
of  Moses  to  the  great  Captivity.  Not  only  of  public 
occurrences,  but  the  private  adventures  of  persons  of 
both  sexes,  and  of  all  ages  and  stations,  of  all  characters 

and 


Sect.  5.]    OCCASIONAL  KEFLECTIONS.       293 

and  complexions ;  in  the  lives  of  virgins,  matrons,  kings, 
soldiers,  scholars,  priests,  merchants,  husbandmen.  They 
are  given  too  in  every  circa  instance  of  life,  victorious,' 
captive,  sick,  and  in  health;  in  full  security  and  amidst 
impending  dangers;  plunged  in  civil  business,  pr  retired 
and  sequestered  in  the  service  of  religion.  Together  vntli 
their  story ,  we  have  their  compositions  likewise.  Here 
they  sing  their  triumphs;  there  their  pajinqdia:  here 
they  offer  up  their  hymns  of  praise  and  petitions  to  tlxe 
Deity ;  here  they  urge  their  moral  precepts  to  their 
countrymen ;  and  here  again  they  treasure  up  their  pro 
phecies  and  predictions  for  posterity :  yet  in  none  of  these 
different  circumstances  oi  life,  in  none  oi  ilie^e  various 
casts  of  composition,  do  we  ever  find  them  acting  on  the 
motives,  or  influenced  by  the  prospect  of  a  future  state ; 
or  indeed  expressing  the  least  hopes  or  fairs,  or  even 
common  curiosity  concerning  it :  but  every  thing  they  do 
or  say  respects  the  present  lite  only ;  the  good  and  ill  of 
which  are  the  sole  objects  of  all  their  pursuits  and  aver- 
£ions  *.  And  licre  I  will  appeal  to  my  adversaries  them 
selves.  Let  them  speak,  and  tell  me,  if  they  were  noyv 
first  shewn  some  history  of  an  old  Greek  republic, 
delivered  in  the  form  and  manner  of  the  Jewish,  and  no 
more  notice  in  it  of  a  future  state,  whether  .tliey  could 
possibly  believe  that  that  doctrine  was  national,  or  gene* 
rally  known  in  it?  If  they  have  the  least  ingenuity,  they 
will  answer,  they  could  not.  On  what  then  do  they 
support  their  belief  here,  but  on  religious  prejudices"? 
Prejudices  ,of  no  higher  an  original  neither  than  som(e 
Dutch  or  German  system :  for,  as  to  the  Bible,  one  half 
of  it  is  silent  concerning  life  and  immortality;  and  the 
other  half  declares  the  doctrines  were  brought  to  light 

*  It  is  very  remarkable,  that  nothing  more  strongly  evinces  the 
desperate  folly  of  those  who  imagine  the  Bible  has  been  adulterated 
by  the  Jews  (unless  it  be  their  o\vn  scheme  of  reforming  it,  by  the 
assistance  of  a  Jeic,  who  has  accommodated  it  to  the  taste  of 
Paganism}  than  this  very  circumstance  of  the  profound  silence 
throughout,  concerning  a  future  xtnte.  For  had  the  Rabbi/is  .ever 
.tempered  with  it  on  any  head,  it  had  certainly  been  on  this,  which 
they  hold  to  be  the  very  Fundamental  of  Fundamentals.^,  And 
which  yet,  after  all  their  sweat  and  labour,  to  discover  in  the  Sible, 
they  could  never  get  to  ;  but  are  forced  at  last  to  take  it  npoij, 
trust  or  tradition,  us  the  Indiana  do  \l\e\\~  fundamental  Tortoise. 

t  MaiiT)onides. 

V  4  through 


296  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

through  the  Gospel;  which  too  is  a  circumstance  in 
support  of  our  conclusion  frorn  the  Jewish  history,  that 
would  be  wanting  in  the  case  given  of  a  Grecian. 

The  strength  of  this  argument  is  still  further  supported 
by  a  view  of  the  general  history  of  mankind:  and  par 
ticularly  of  those  nations  most  resembling  the  Jewish  by 
their  genius  and  circumstances :  in  which  we  find  the 
doctrine  of  a  future  state  was  always  pushing  on  its 
influence.  It  was  their  constant  viaticum  through  life  • 
it  stimulated  them  to  war,  and  spirited  their  songs  of 
triumph;  it  made  them  insensible  of  pain,  immoveable 
in  danger,  and  superior  to  the  hour  of  death.  But  this  is 
not  all :  \ve  observe  that  even  in  the  Jewish  annals,  when 
this  doctrine  was  become  national,  it  made  as  considerable 
a  figure  in  their  history,  as  in  that  of  any  other  people. 
In  the  last  place  we  shew,  that  it  is  not  on  the  negative 
silence  only  of  the  sacred  writers,  or  of  the  speakers  they 
introduce,  that  we  support  our  conclusion  ;  but  from  their 
-positive  declarations,  by  which  they  plainly  discover,  that 
there  was  no  popular  expectation  of  a  future  state  or 
resurrection.  Such  as  these;  That  he  that  goeth  down 
to  the  grave  shall  come  up  no  mere*. — That  in  death 
there  is  no  remembrance  of  God.  and  in  the  grave  no  one 
.shall  give  him  thanks^.--  That  the  dead  k-norr  not  ami 
thing,  neither  have  any  more  a  reward^ — That  then 
who  go  down  to  the  pit  cannot  hope  for  God's  truth  §.— 
That  those  who  are  dead,  are  not  ||.  Where  we  find  it  to. 
be  the  same  popular  language  throughout,  and  in  every 
circumstance  of  life;  as  well  in  the  cool  philosophy  of  the 
author  of  JStclesitist&L  as  amidst  the  distresses  of  the 
Psalmist,  the  Lamentations  of  the  Prophet,  and  the 
exultations  of  good  Hezekiah.  But  is  it  possible  this 
could  be  the  language  of  a  people  instructed  in  the 
doctrine  of  life  and  immortality  ?  Or  do  we  find  owe 
word  of  it,  on  any  occasion  whatsoever,  in  the  writers  of 
the  New  Testament,  but  where  it  is  brought  in  to  be  con 
futed  and  condemned?  The  people  in  Jeremiah  say, 
that  Y/we  who  arc  dead,  are  not:  Jesus,  in  the  Gospel, 
that  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  are  amongst  the  living. 
Good  men  amongst  the.,  .lews  said,  that  those  who  go. 

*  2  S-mi.  xiv.  M.  f  1'salm  vi . ;",.  I  Ecclcs.ix.  .5. 

J  1-sa.  xxxviii.  18, 10.  (j  Jcr.  v;  7. 

.    •  down 


Sect.  5-]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       297 

down  to  the  grave  come  up  no  more,  know  not  any  thing, 
have  no  reward,  and  therefore  prayed  for  long  life  here, 
to  praise  the  God  of  their  salvation :  St.  Paul,  on  the 
contrary,  devoutly  wished  for  his  dissolution,  in  order  to 
receive  elsewhere  the  reward  of  his  faith  and  spiritual 
warfare.  Here,  therefore,  let  me  admonish  certain 
dealers  in  systems,  for  once  to  suspend  their  trade,  and 
attend  a  moment  to  the  arguments  they  write  against 
•For  it  will  not  be  thought  enough  that  they  prove,  on  the 
principles  of  their  systems,  that  the  doctrine  of  a  future 
state  of  rewards  and  punishments  OUGHT  to  be  in  the 
religion  of  Moses,  and  therefore  is  there.  The  public 
will  now  expect,  that  they  directly  apply  themselves  to 
the  refutation  of  these  arguments ;  which,  being  founded 
on  no  system,  proceed  in  a  different  manner ;  and,  from 
the  proof  of  what  is  not  there,  conclude,  what  ought  not 
to  be  there.  But  it  is  much  easier  to  tell  us,  what  should 
be  in  a  book,  than  to  account  for  what  is  in  it. 

From  the  Old  Testament,  we  proceed  to  the  New ;  by 
which  it  appears,  from  the  inspired  writers  of  this  likewise, 
that  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punish 
ments  did  NOT  make  part  of  the  Mosaic  dispensation. 
Their  evidence  we  have  divided  into  two  parts,  the  Jirst 
proving  that  temporal  rewards  and  punishments  were  the 
sanction  of  the  Jewish  dispensation ;  the  second,  that  it 
had  no  other.  And  thus,  with  the  directest  and  most 
unexceptionable  proof  of  the  two  MINOR  propositions, 
thej/flk  book  concludes. 

VI.  But  to  remove,  as  far  as  I  was  able,  all  grounds 
of  prejudice  to  this  momentous  truth,  I  employed  the 
sixth  and  last  book  of  this  volume  in  examining  those 
texts  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  which  had  been 
commonly  urged  to  prove  that  the  doctrine  of  a  future 
state  of  rewards  and  punishments  did  rnakfc  part  of  the 
•'Mosaic  dispensation, 

Amongst  those  of  the  Old  Testament,  the  famous 
passage  in  the  xixth  chapter  of  the  book  of  Job  holding 
the  principal  place,  I  judged  it  of  importance,  for  the 
reasons  there  assigned,  to  examine  this  matter  to  the 
bottom  ;  which  necessarily  engaged  me  in  an  inquiry  into 
the  nature  and  genius  of  that  book ;  when  written,  and  to 
what  purpose ;  whereby  not  only  a  fair  account  is  given  of 


REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [IV*  J. 

the  sense  of  that  passage,  consistent  with  my  proposition; 
'trot  a  strong  support  is  provided  tor  what  will  be  iurt.hiT 
said  in  the  third  and  last  vohnne,  concerning  the£'>Yv/:«W 
decay  of  the  extraordinary  provide  nee,  from  the  tuiie  of 
8(t{(l  to  the  return  from  the  great  Captivity,  and  rtbettlt- 
rcent  in  the  lard  of  Ju^ 

liut  this  dissc;  tatlon  has  still  a  further,  and  very 
tant  use,  regarding  tiei'cUttwn  ingcw-  for  >hev 

therein,  how  the  principles  of  the  (Josj-ti  doctrine  .<//;> 
£$f  degree^  iully  obviates  the  calumnies  oif  Tiudai  • 
CW/V;/-v;  who  pretend  that  the    priests  and  leaders  ojf 
ffitfuif&f  refined  their  old  doctrines  concerning  the  1-)$ . 
and  invented  new  ones,  just  as  jliey  advanced  in  knpw- 
iedge  .or  the  people  in  curiosity ;  eras  botlnvere  better  ia- 
structcd  in  the  country  to  v/iiich  they  were  led  cautive. 

In  examining  the  texts  of  the  jYca;  Testament,  ihr. 
iamous  eleventh  chapter  of  the  epistle  to  the  Hcln 
was  not  forgotten  *  tlic  sense  of  u  hich  is  cleared  tip  froiu 
the   strongest  and  most  inveterate   mistakes  of   syste- 
DHrlioall  divines.     In  this  place  is  occasionally  explained 
and  iiiustrated  a  matter  of  the  highest  moment  for 
understanding  St.  Pout's  epistles,  natuely,  the  mtun 
ihc ^ Ipoxiolic  recMttiMg  against  the  errors  of  lite  Jewish 
converts ;    and  this  likewise  contributes  stiil  iiuther  to 
support  the  truth  of  our  two  mix  OK  propositions. 

As  in  all  this  I  taught  nothing  contrary  to  the  doctrine 
Cff  our  excellent  Church,  hry  professiuu.  in  couiujt/u 
decency,  not  to  say  justice  both  to  myself  and  others, 
required  I  should  vindicate  the  reality  of  my  coriioriiiity. 
Having  therefore  declared  it  as  my  unfeigned  opinion 
that,  "  ttough  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishment> 
fi  made  no  part  of  the  Mosaic  dispensation,  yet  that  the 
^  Law  had  a  spiritual  meaning,  to  be  understood  when 
"  the  fulness  of  time  should  come,  and  hence  received 
(i  the  nature,  and  afforded  the  efficacy  of  prophecy :  and 
"that  in. the  interim,  the  mystery  of  the  Gospel  was, 
4:  occasionally  revealed  by  God  to  his  chosen  servants,  the 
"leaders  and  fathers  of  the  Jewish  nation;  and  the 
".daicrimg  of  it  gradually  opened  by  the  prophets  to  the. 
u  people:''  Having,  1  say,  declared  this  to  be  my  un 
feigned  opinion,  I  shew,  from  the  words  of  the  Srcenlk 
Article  oj  Religion,  that  it  is  the  opinion  of  our  excellent 

Church. 


Sect.  5.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.       299 

Church  likewise.  And  that  I  may  not  be  suspected  of 
tergiversation,  when  I  subscribe  to  this  article  that  They 
are  not- to  be- heard  which  frig)?9  that  the  old  Fathers  did 
look  only  for  transitory  promises,  I  attempt  to  illustrate 
the  words  of  Jems,  where  he  says  that  Abraham  rejoiced 
to  see  Christ's  day,  and  sate  it.  and  was  glad>  by  the 
noblest  instance  that  ever  was  given  of  the  harmony 
between  the  Old  and  Rew  Testament,  on  the  princi 
ples  before  laid  down  in  the  discourse  on  the  hieroglyphics.; 
and  shew  that  the  command  'to  Abraham  to  offer  Isaac 
was  merely  an  information  /given  at  Abraham's  earnest 
request)  in  •  a  representative  action,  instead  of  words,  of 
the  redemption  of  mankind  by  the  great  sacrifice  of 
Christ.  From  whence  we  gain  two  other  advantages, 
besides  that  more  immediate,  of  justifying  the  doctrine 
of  our  national  Church.  Thejirst  of  which  is  the  sup 
porting  a  real  and  essential  connexion  between  Judaism 
and  Christianity.  The  other  is,  disposing  the  Deists  to 
think  more  favourably  of  their  Bible :  for  our  interpre 
tation  overthrows -all  objections  to  this  part  oi  Abrahams 
history.  The-  matter  therefore  being  of  this  high  impor 
tance,  it  was  proper  to  fix  it  on  such  principles  as  would 
leave  no  room  for  doubt  or  objection.  And  this  could  be 
done  only  by  explaining  the  nature  of  those  various  modes 
of  information  in  use  amongst  the  Ancients  ;  for  whicli 
explanation  likewise  a  proper  foundation  had  been  laid 
in  thfe  discourse  on  the  hieroglyphics.  But  this  is  not  all ; 
we  get  a  yet  further  and  much  more  considerable  benefit 
by  it,  and  that  is  the  clearing  up  and  vindicating  the 
logical  truth  and  propriety  of  types  in  action,  and  secoii- 
•  clary  senses  in  speech :  whereon  the  divinity  of  the  ancient 
prophecies  concerning  Christ  are  to  be  supported ;  and 
which,  at  this  time,  most  needed  a  support.  For  though 
the  greater  part  of  these  prophecies  relate  to  Jesus  only 
in  a  secondary  sense,  yet  had  some  men  of  name  and  in 
the  interests  of  religion,  through  "ignorance  of  the  true 
original  and  nature  of  secondary  senses,  rashly  concurred 
with  modern  Judaism  and  hr/ia'cHty,  to  give  up  all  such 
as  illogical  and  enthusiastic,  to  the  imminent  hazard  of 
overturning  the  very  foundation  of  our  faith.  In  the 
course  of  this  inquiry,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  examining 
and  confuting  one  of  the  most  able  and  plausible  books 

ever 


300  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  L 

ever  written  against  Revelation,  the  Grounds  and  Reasons 
f)f  the  Christian  Religion,  which  goes  entirely  upon  the 
illogical  fanaticism  of  a  secondary  sense  of  prophecies. 

The  intelligent  reader  will,  I  presume,  allow  these 
reasons  sufficient  to  justify  the  length  of  this  dissertation; 
but  there  were  two  other  more  immediately  relative  to  my 
question,  that  engaged  me  in  the  inquiry.  The  om  was 
to  shew,  that  those,  who  contend  for  the  Christian  doc 
trine  of  a  future  states  being  revealed  to  the  early  J<  ir.s, 
destroy  all  reason  of  a  secondary  sense  erf  prophecies ; 
(a  matter,  as  we  have  shewn,  of  the  utmost  importance 
tQ  Revelation  :)  for  how  can  it  be  certainly  known,  from 
the  prophecies  themselves,  that  they  contain  double  scmex, 
but  from  hence,  that  the  old  Law  was  preparatory  to,  and 
the  rudiments  of,  the  Nczv  ?  How  shall  this  relation  be 
certainly  known,  but  from  hence,  that  no  future  state  <>/ 
rewards  and  punishments  is  to  be  found  in  the  Mosaic 
dispensation?  So  close  a  dependence  have  all  these 
momentous  principles  on  one  another.  The  other  more 
immediate  reason  for  this  dissertation,  on  types  ami 
secondary  senses,  was  this  :  AS  I  had  shewn  that  a  future 
state  of  rewards  and  punishments  was  revealed  under  no 
part  of  the  Jewish  economy  any  otherwise  tha.ii  by  tliosc 
modes  of  information,  it  was  necessary,  in  order  to  shew 
the  real  connexion  between  Judaism  and  Christianity 
(the  truth  of  the  latter  religion  depending  on  that  real  con 
nexion)  to  prove  those  modes  logical  and  rational.  Tor  as 
on  the  one  hand,  had  the  doctrine  of  life  and  immortality 
been  revealed  under  the  Mosaic  economy,  Judaism  h^d 
been  more  than  a  rudiment  and  preparation  of  Christi 
anity  ;  so  had  no  covert  intimations  at  all  been  given  pi? 
the  doctrine,  it  had  been  less :  That  is,  the  dependency 
and  connexion  between  the  two  religions  had  not  been 
sufficiently  marked  out  and  ascertained.  With  this  neces 
sary,  dissertation,  therefore,  the  slvth  and  last  book  of  the 
second  volume  concludes. 

Thus  the  reader  sees  at  length,  how  regularly  and 
intetitiy  these  two  volumes  have  been  carried  on :  tjie 
Jirst  in  proving  the  MAJOR,  and  the  second >  the  MINQR 
propositions  of  the  two  syllogisms.  In  which,  though 
the  Author  (whose  passion  is  not  so  much  a  fondness  fpr 
his  own  argument  as  for  the  honour  and  support  of 

religion 


Sect.  >]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.      301 

religion  itself)  has  neglected  tio  fair  occasion  of  inforcbg 
every  circumstance,  that  might  serve  to  illustrate  the 
truth  of  Revelation  in  general;  yet  he  never  loses  sight  of 
his  end;  but,  as  the  rule  for  conducting  tlie  most  regular 
works  prescribes, 

Semper  ad  event  urn  fcstinat. 

This  volume  too  I  thought  fit  to  publish  alone,  as  I  did 
the  jiwt ;  though  not  merely  for  the  same  reason,  its 
being  a  perfect  and  entire  wKote  of  itself,  explaining  the 
nature  and  genius  of  the  Jewish  constitution}  but  for  a 
much  better — that  it  fairly  finished  the  argument.  For 
my  logic  teaches  me,  that,  when  the  MAJOR  and  the 
MINOR  are  once  proved,  the  CONCLUSION  follows  of 
course.  And  this  is,  that  THE  JEWISH  RELIGION  AND 

SOCIETY    WEUE    SUPPORTED    BY  AN    EXTRAORDINARY 

PROVIDENCE:  For  be  this  never  so  furious  a  PARADOX, 
it  may  be  rendered  as  tame  and  harmless  as  any  other 
truth  by  the  common  advantages  of  argument;  unless  a 
raiser  of  paradoxes,  like  a  raiser  of  rebellion,  is  to  be  ipso 
facto,  outfaced;  and  the  out  denied  all  benefit  of  the, 
logic,  as  the  other  is,  of  the  law,  of  his  country. 

III. 

VII.  It  may  be  asked  then,  what  I  mean  by  a  third 
volume,  if  the  argument  be  ended  in  the  second?     To 
this  I  answer,  That  it  is  one  thing  to  satisfy  truth ;  and  an 
other,  her  pretended  followers.  He  who  engages  for  Reve 
lation,  has  many  prrj  udiccs  to  encounter ;  but  he  who  engages 
for  it,  under  reason  only,  has  many  more.    I  cannot  then 
make  too  sure  of  my  reader.     And,  luckily,  the  plan  of 
my  work  obliging  me  to  continue  the  history  of  the  reli 
gious  doctrines  of  the  Jews,  from  the  time  of  the  first 
Prophets,  to  that  of  the  Maccabees,  when  the  doctrine  of 
a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments  first  became 
national ;  this  history  will  afford  abundant  proofs  for  the 
further  illustration  of  the  MAJOR  propositions  of  the  t\\o 
syllogisms.     And    this  will   make   the    subject    of   the 
seventh  book  of  The  Divine  Legation,  or  lliejirst  part  of 
the  third  volume. 

VIII.  Having  in  this  manner  gone  through  my  general 
argument^  what  remains  is  an  examination  of  thVprinci- 
pal  objections  that  may  be  urged  against  it:  and  tl*cse 

being 


302  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Parti 

being  founded  in  the  supposed  views  and  objects  of  the 
Jewish  Lawgiver,  this  examination  will  be  chiefly  employed 
in  explaining  arjd  vindicating  the  true  CHARACTER  of 
MOSES.:  from  whence  will  arise  a  new  series  of  argu 
ments  for  the  support  of  the  Mi>7OR  propositions  of  the 
two  syllogisms :  and,  particularly,  a  demonstration  that 
.shews  the  conclusion  of  the  second  syllogism*,  to  have  all 
the  force  of  thejirst^:  the  onjy  thing  it  might  seem  to 
\vant.  This  demonstration  may  be  reduced  to  this 
syllogism  : 

None,  but  one  ignorant  of  the  world,  or  an  enthusiast, 
who  had  received  a  promise  like  that  given  to  the 
Jews,  and  had  lived  to  the  time  marked  for  its 
accomplishment,  could  be  mistaken  either  about 
the  promise  or  its  completion. 

But  Moses  received  such  a  promise,  arid  lived  to  the 
time  marked  for  its  accomplishment,  and  was  neither 
ignorant  of  the  world,  nor  an  enthusiast. 
Therefore  Moses  was  not  mistaken  either  about  the  pro- 

mise  or  its  accomplishment. 

This  will  make  the  subject  of  the  eighth  book,  or  the 
second  part  of  the  third  volume. 

IX.  Buthaving>  towards  the  conclusion  of  the  eighth 
book,  in  answer  to  various  infidel  objections,  examined 
the  pretended  reasons  of  the  omission  of  the  doctrine  of  a 
future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments  in  the  Mosaic 
dispensation;  I  am  naturally  and  necessarily  led  to 
inquire,  further,  into  the  TRUE.  For  now  it  might  be 
finally  objected,  that  though,  under  an  extraordinary 
providence,  there  might  be  no  occasion  for  the  doctrine  of 
a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  in  support  of 
religion,  or  the  ends  of  government ;  yet,  as  that  doctrine 
was  true,  and,  consequently,  under  every  regimen  of 
Providence,  useful',  it  seems  hard  to  conceive  that  the 
religious  Leader  of  the  Jeu*s9  because,  as  a  lawgiver,  he 
could  do  without  it,  that  therefore,  as  a  divine,  he  would 
omit  it.  The  objection  is  of  weight  in  itself,  and  receives 
much  additional  strength  from  what  we. have  observed  in 

*  Namely,,  that  Meses,  who  taught,  believed  likewise,  that  the 
Jewish  religion  and  society  were  to  be  supported  by  an  extraor 
dinary  providence. 

.that  they  were  under  an  extraordinary  providence. 

the 


Sect  5.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS. 

the  fifth  book  concerning  the  reason  of  the  law  qf  punish- 
ing  children  for  the  crimes  of  their  parents.  I  hold  it 
therefore  not  sufficient  barely  to  reply,  Moses  omitted  it, 
that  his  law  might-  thereby  remain  throughout  all  ages  an 
itticiiicible  monument  of'  the  truth  oj  'his  pretences  ;  but 
proceed  to  explain  the  great  and  principal  reason  of  the 
omission.  Arid  now,  vent  urn  ad  VEUUM  est.  This  leads 
me  into  one  general  view  of  the  whole  course  of  Gods 
universal  economy  from  Adam  to  Christ,  ending  in  a 
dissertation  on  the  true  nature  and  genius  of  the  CHRIS 
TIAN  FAITH,  and  so  adding  new  and  irresistible  force  to 
the  CONCLUSIONS  of  both  uwst/Uogis?ns.*  With  this  the 
ninth  book,  or  third  part  of  the  last  volume,  concludes. 

This  I  purpose  to  give  the  Public  without  delay*:  not 
for  any  pressing  necessity  iiiy  argument  has  of  it,  for  I 
left  it  not,  as  -was  insinuated,  naked  and  supportless;  but, 
HS  the  reader  now  sees,  surrounded  with  various  outwork*, 
and  standing  strongly  on  its  candmion',  but,  principally, 
ChM  I  may  be  at  liberty  to  address  myself  to  a  much  larger 
ivork—  A  full  Defence  <:-f  Revdatiou  'ni  general  and  of  thf. 
'(j-hrhhan  Faith  in  particular,  aga'&st  Ujibdievers  of  fill 
'•2)&termmti(M$-*—-A  work  long  .projected,  and  whidi  mv 
Christian  profession,  and  still  more  solemn  engagements 
in  the  service  of  religion,  persuaded  me  was  oiy  dutv, 
H-vith  :tlie  good  leave  of  my  brethven,  to  devote  mysfjf 
^ato-  —  Not  to  speak  at  present  of  the  high  encouragement 
to  all  attempts  of  this  nature  from  the  ieiicity  t)f  thf, 
times,  isvhich  is,  -or  would  be,  -always  urging  jne  on,  in  tlirv 
tds  of  tlie  Poet  ; 

"  —  —  Va  pfilir  sur  la  Bible  "\ 
''  %  m;arquer-les  ecueils  de  cette  iBer  t^riibie  : 
f  Perce  la  sainte  iioiTeiir  de  ce  Ltvre  divin  : 
"  -Cdnfbtts  dans  un  Ouvrage  €t  Tindal  et  Coll  in  : 

JDebro(ii]ie  des  vieux  terns  les  qwerelles  eelebres; 
u-£clairci  dcs  Rabins  ies  savantes  teftebres  : 

qu-en:ta  vieillesse,  tin  livre  -en  maroquin 
/"lille  otfHr  ton  -travail  a  quskjue  lieureux  Faquin, 
.  p'our-digne-loier  de  ia  Bible  eclaircie^     f 
'  i'acceptant  d?«n'jE  vous  - 

Nbte'(*)-*p;  144,  voJvvi. 


;i' 


304  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  J< 

APPENDIX, 

CONTAINING 

THE  JUDGMENTS  OF  GROTIUS,  EPISCOPIUS, 
AND  BISHOP  BULL; 

SHEWING 

Thai  a  future  State  of  Rewards  and  Punishments  was  not 
taught  to  the  People  of  the  JEWS  by  the  Law  and  Religion 
of  MOSES. 

GROTIUS. — "  Moses  in  Religionis  Judaicse  Insti- 
"  tutione,  si  diserta  Legis  respichnus,  nihil  promisit  suprai 
"  hujus  vitae  bona,  terram,  uberem,  penurn  copiosun>j 
"  victoriam  de  hostibus,  longam  &  valentem  senectuten^ 
u  posteros  cum  bona  spe  superstites.  Nam,  si  QUID  EST 
*  ULTRA,  in  umbris  obtegitur,  aut  sapienti  ac  DIFFICILJ 
"  ratiocinationccolligendum  est" 

EPISCOPIUS.—"  In  tota  Lege  Mosaica  nullum' 
<:  vita?  aeternse  prcemium,  ac  ne  asterni  quidem  praemii 
"  INDICIUM  VEL  VESTIGIUM  extat :  quicquid  mine 
"  Judsi  multiun  de  futuro  seculo,  de  resurrectione  mor- 
"  tuorum,  de  vita  aeterna  Ipquantur,  &  ex  Legis  verbis  ea 
<c  extorquere  potius  quam  ostendere  conentur,  NE  LEGEM 
"  Mosis  IMPERFECTAM  ESSE  cogantur  agnoscere  cum? 
"  Sadcjucaeis;  quos  olim  (&,  uti  observo  ex  scriptis 
"  Rabbinorum,  hodieque)  vitam  futuri  saeculi  Lege  Mosis 
"  nee  promitti  nec  contineri  adfirmasse,  quuin  tamen 
*c  Judaei  essent,  certissimum  est.  Nernpe  non  nisi  per 
"  Cabalam  sive  Traditionem,  quam  illi  in  universum 
*'  rejiciebaht,  opinionem  sive  fidem  illarn  irrepsisse  asse- 
"  rebant.  Et  sane  opinionum,  quac  inter  Juda30s  erat, 
"  circa  vitam  futuri  saeculi  discrepantk,  arguit  promis-^ 
"  sjones  Lege  factas  tales  esse  ut  ex  iis  certi  quid  cle  vita 
"  futuri  saeculi  non  possit  colligi.  Quod  &  Servator 
"  noster  non  obscure  innuit,  cum  resurrectionem  mor- 

*c  tuorun* 


Appx.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.        305 

"  tuorum  colligit  Matt.  xxn.  non  ex  promisso  aliquo 
"  Legi  addito,  sed  ex  general!  tantum  illo  promisso  Dei, 
"  quo  se  Deum  Abrahami,  Isaaci,  &  Jacobi  futurum 
"  spoponderat :  quae  tamen  ilia  collectio  magis  nititur 
"  cognitione  intentionis  divinae  sub  generalibus  istis  verbis 
"  occiiltatas  aut  comprehcnsae,  de  qua  Christo  certo  con- 
"  stabat,  quain  necessaria  consequentia  sive  verborum  vi 
"  ac  virtute  rnanifesta,  qualis  nunc  &  in  verbis  Novi 
"  Testament!,  ubi  vita  aj.tema  &  resurreetio  inortuorum 
"  proram  &  pnppitn  faciunt  totius  lleligionis  Christianas, 
"  &  tain  clare  ac  diserte  promittuntur  ut  ne  hiscere 
"  quidem  contra  quis  possit."  Instit.  Theol.  lib.  iii. 
sect.  i.  c.  2. 

BULL. — "  Primo  qnaerittir  an  in  Vet.  Testamento 
"  Qullum  omnino  extet  vitas  aeternse  promissum  ?  de  eo 
"enim  a  nonnullis  dubitatur.  liesp.  Huic  quacstioni 
*'  optiine  mihi  videtur  respondere  Augustinus,  distinguens 
"  nomen  Veteris  Testament! ;  nam  eo  intelligi  ait  aut 
"  pactum  illud,  quod  in  monte  Sinai  facturn  est,  aut 
"  omnia,  quas  in  J\!ose,  Hagiographis,  ac  Prophetis  con- 
"  tinentur.  Si  Vetus  Testamentiwn  posteriori  sensu  acci- 
t(  piatur,  concedi  FORSITAX  possit,  esse  in  eo  nonnulla 
<l  futurae  vitas  non  obscura  indicia ;  praesertim  in  libro 
*'  Psalmorum,  Daniele,  Sc  Ezekiele:  quanquam  vel  in  his 
"  Libris  clarum  ac  disertum  reterna)  vita;  promissum  vix 
"  AC  NE  vix  quidem  reperias.  Sed  ha?c  qualiacunque 
"  erant,  non  erant  nisi  praeludia  &  anticipationes  gratia* 
"Evangelicre,  AD  LEG  EM  NON  PERTINEBANT. — Lex 
*l  enim  promissa  habuit  terrena,  &  terrena  TANTUM.— 
<(  Si  quis  contra  sentiat  ejus  est  locum  dare,  ubi  a3ternse 
"  vitaa  promissio  extat ;  QUOD  CEIITE  JMPOSSIBILE  EST, 
"  — Sub  his  autem  verbis  [legis  ipsius]  Dei  intentione 
*c  comprehensam  fuissevitam  astemara,  ex  interpretations 
"  ipsius  Christi  ejusque  Apostolorum  inanifestum  est. 
"  Verum  hagc  non  suiiiciunt  ut  dicamus  vitam  ajternam 
<c  in  Foedere  Mosaico  proinissam  fuisse.  Nam  pririio 
w  promissa,  praesertim  Foederi  annexa,  dcbent  esse  clura 
"  ac  diserta,  &  ejusmodi,  ut  ab  utraque  parte  stipulante 
"  intelligi  possint  Promissa  an  tern  ha?c  typica  &  gene- 
"  ralia,  non  addita  aliimde  interpretatione,  PENE  IMPOS- 

"  SIBILE    ERAT  UT  QUIS    ISTO    SF.NSU    INTEtLIGERET/7 

VOL.  XI,  X  Harmonia 


3d6  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Pare  I, 

Jlarmonia  Apostolica,   Dissert,   poster,   c.  x.  sect,  viik 
p.  474,  inter  Op.  Om.  Ed.  1721. 

'i.  Thus  these  three  great  ornaments  ef  the  Protestant 
Religion.  And  what  more  has  been-  said  or  done  by  the 
Author  of  the  Dti'nie  Legation?  Only  this,  he  has 
shewn,  that  the  absence  or  omission  of  a  future  state  of 
rewards  and  punishments  in  the  Mosaic  religion  is  a 
certain  mark  of  its  divinity.  Forgive  we  this  wrong. 
It  has  indeed  been  objected  that  Bishop  B nil  talked  very 
differently  in  an  English  posthumous  sermon.  -  All  that 
I  can  say  to  this  ir>,  that,  if  he  did  so,  it  was-  not  by  my 
direction-;  who  hold  it  to  he  unlawful  to  say  one  thing  to- 
the  people,  and  another  to  their  pastors.  But  Bishop  Ball, 
it  sectns,  might  say  what  he  pleased.  He  might,  to 
support  his  opinion,  say  without  censure,  nay,  with 
commendation,  that-  the  doctrine  of  ft  future  state  was-- 
amongst  the  Arcana  of  the  Jews  :  that  there  was  a  two 
fold  manner  of  teaching  amongst  them,  one  suited  to 
vulgar  -apprehensions,  the  other  to  those  who  had  made 
seme  proficiency  in  know/edge  *.  But  if  I  venture  to  say 
so,  a  kgion  of  bigots  are  in  arms.  And  do  I  say  any 
Other,  in  affirming,  that  during  the  early  ages  of  the 
Jewish  republic  a  future  state  was  not  a  national  doc 
trine,  hut  l;uown  only  to  some  jew  of  their  leaders? 
Thus  can  the  Writer  quoted  above  abuse  me,  throughout 
a  whole  pamphlet,  for  holding  the  very  same  tiling  for 
which  Bishop  Hull  merited  his  commendation  ;  and  this- 
i'n  an  outrageous  mamrer  too,  as  if  I  had  said  something 
most  derogatory  to  the  -honour  and  attributes  of  God. 
But  this  is  the  hocus  pocus  of  controversy.  When  the 
Bishop  and  I  have  paid  him  in  the  same  coin,  that,  from 
the  Bishop's  pocket,  shall  be  true  orthodox  sterling; 
which,  from  mine,  comes  out  dipt,  washt,  and  counter 
feit.  But  the  man's  a  bungler;  and  neither  understands 
clean  conveyance,  nor  has  assurance  enough  to  outface 
the  fraud.  Tor,  conscious,  as  it  were,  of  an  ill-played 
trick,  he  patches  up  the  cheat  in  this  slovenly  manner, 
Surely,  (says  he)  there  is  a  great  difference  between  indu-s- 
friomly  keeping  a  tiling  out  of  sight,  and  industriously* 

*  An  Examination  of  Mr.  Warburton's  Second  Proposition,  &c., 
in  an  epistolary  dissertation  addressed  to  the  Author,  p.  125,  just 
ROW  come  to  BIV  hands. 

propagating 


Appx.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.        307 

-propagating  it  amongst  all  wno  WERE  ABLE  AND  WIL 
LING  TO  RECEIVE  IT.  p.  i  2>     Illustrious  distinguislicr ! 
Does   not  -the   BISHOP'S   industriously  propagating  It 
.amongst  all  tclio  arc  able  and  willing  to  receive  it,  imply 
the  keeping  it  out  of  si g  I  it  from  the  rest  ?    And  does  not 
MY  industriously  keeping  it  out  oj  sight  from  the  rest, 
imply  t lie  propagating  it  amongst  all  who  were  able  and 
witling  to  receive  it?     But,  in  this  case,  I  have  done 
more  than   by  implication;  I  have  said  over  and  over 
.again,  that  it  was    communicated   to    the  few  able   to 
receive  it.     I  did  not  indeed  add  willing.     That  disco 
very  was  reserved  for  the  wonderful  penetration  of  our 
Author.     I  had  no  conception  but  that  every  Jew  was 
willing  enough  to  receive  not  only  the  promise  of  the 
life  tJutt  now  /,y,  but  of  that .  which  is  to  come:  but  it 
is   a  reasonable  question   whether  they  were   as   cw/e ; 
and  would  not  then  have  quitted  both  the  school  and 
school-master  that  was  to  bring  them  to  Christ  long 
before  the  good  time  he  had  appointed.     But  these  are 
matters    above  our  Author's  comprehension.     lie  will 
needs  know  why  God  acted  thus  mysteriously.     I  .will 
tell  him  when  lie  informs  me  (and  perhaps  before)  why 
America  for  so  many  ages  was  debarred  the  light  of  the 
Gospel.     Were  not  these  his  offspring  as  well  as  the  sons 
of  Abraham?     But  this  is  the  advantage  that  he  and  his 
fellows  take  with  the   ignorant.     They  cry  out,  What! 
a  religion  from  God  without  a  future  state?     No.     Ra 
ther  than  this,  any  thing.     They  will  go  a  text-hunting, 
lie  at  catch  for  an  ambiguity,  divorce  the  .sentence  from 
its  context,  strip  it  naked ;  and  if,  after  all  this  violence, 
it  does  but  squint  their  way,  see  here,  say  they,  as  clear 
a  proof  of  it  as  from  the  preaching  of  Jesu$.     Yet  let 
these  texts   but   speak  for  themselves,    or  without  any 
other  prompter  than  the  context,  and  we  shall  soon  sea 
that  there  is  not  one  of  ail  they  have  ever  produced,  in 
the  period  in  question,  that  can  by  any  rules  of  good  cri 
ticism  be  made  to  signify  the  least  notice  of  a  future  state, 
otherwise  than  in  a  secondary  and  spiritual  sense.  In  the 
mean  time  let  no  good    man   be  scandalized  with  thefr 
clamour.     All  such  shall  soon  see  ibis  tempest  of  malice 
and  bigotry  dispersed,  and  the  Scripture  of  God  at  ksst 
vindicated  even  from,  its  worst  and  most  tatal  mischief; 

x  2  the 


308  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part! 

the  virulence  of  false  zeal.  Hut  this  and  bigotry  have  si> 
blinded  our  Anonymous,  that  in*  another  place  he  insult 
ingly  asks  me;  (p.  70)  WHJ.KF,  /  learnt  that  death,  doth 
not  now  n'igfi  ?  and  yet  before  he  ends  his  page  he  himself 
quotes  these  words  v£  the  Apostle,  Jesm  Christ  hath 
abolished  death  *. 

2.  I  Jut  now,  if  the  bringing  over  such  kind  of  writers, 
and  leading  them  into  the  dawn  of  sense,  were  any  matt< ! 
of  merit,  I  had  much  to  boast  of.  When  I  first  adven 
tured  to  fall  upon  their  systems*,  nothing  was  heard 
amongst  them  but"  that  11  foxes  did  teach  a-futdre  state; 
"  and  plainly  too ;  if  not,  the  worse  for  hin>;  tor  he 
"  ought  to  hare  taught  />."  This  was  then  the  cry.  But 
now  their  note  is  altered.  This  Anonymous  owns  very 
frankly  that  Closes  taught  no  future  state,  nay  more,, 
could  'not  teach  it.  Moses  (says  he)  as-  *n  authorized 
teacher  could  not  declare  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state. 
This  doctrine  icas  not  in  his  commission r  pp.  5  &  7.  And 
so,  in  other  places-,  to  the  same  purpose.  Thus,  after 
having  fought  through  all  that  own  weapons  in  vain,  tliej 
will  now  try  if  they  cannot  silence  mewkhmute;  and 
make  that  very  principle  on  which  I  raised  my  second 
•proposition  serve  to  the  subversion  of  it.  For  the  reader 
must  not  fancy  that  they  now  begin  to  embrace  any  of  my 
principles  in  the  love  of  truth,  but  of  contention  only. 
But  let  us  take  him  as  we  find  him.  lie  says,  Moses  had 
•it  not  in  cumjntssiun  to  leach  a  future  state.  Be  it  so; 
1  ask  then,  first,  how  lie  comes  to  know  this  ?  If  he  says, 
because  Motes  did  not  teach  it,  lie  Mill  argue  as  becomes 
him.  But  1  will  suppose  him  to  say  because  it  was  re- 
served  for  thv  commission  of  Jtsus.-  Then  thus  I  argue — 
That  traditional  knowledge,  which  this  man  says  they  had 
of  the  doctrine,  was  either  a  divine  or  human  tradition. 
If  he  suys,  a  divine,  then  some  holy  man  had  it  in  com 
mission  to  teach  before  Moses,  or  God  himself  taught, it. 
In  either  case,  I  ask  why  it  could  not  have  been  intrusted 
to  Moses,  when  instituting  a  new  religion  and  civil  govern 
ment,  since  it  was  of  a  nature  to  be  intrusted?  If.  he 
n  ill  say,  of  human  tradition,  it  is  then  certain  Moses  s 
silence,  in  a  religion  to  which  nothing  was  to  be  added, 
and  from  which  nothing  was  to  be  taken,  must  have  very 
*  2  Tim.  i.  10. 

soon 


OCCASIONAL  REFLECTION'S.        309 

soon  erased  all  human  traditions  from  the  minds  and 
memory  of  *he  people;  which  indeed  was  the  case. 
Though  human  traditions,  in  after-ages,  they  had  enough. 
And  when  I  come  to  shew  why  they  took  them  up,  and 
whence  they  had  them,  that  they  'hud  them  not  in  the 
times  in  question  will  be  seen  to  -a  demonstration.  I 
only  mention  this,  to  shew  the  wretched  futility  of  such 
a  writer,  who,  when  he  steals  a  true  principle,  -knows  so 
little  wiiat  ito  .make  of  it.  It  is  very  true,  This  doc-trwc 
was  not  w  Moses's  commission.  And  from  this  great  truth 
I  shall  prove,  to  the  shame  of  .all  such  writers,  tfcal  it 
cmdd  not  be  a  national  doctrine  amongst  the  Je&w  in  .the 
times  1  mention.  But  this  in  my  to'/  volume.  l;or  I 
proceed  vei'y  differently  from  these  writers.  They,  from 
what  <they  imagine,  could  uot  be,  would  pi'ove  it  ic-as  not. 
I,  from  what  I  prove  teas  not,  shew  afterwards  what  could 
not  be.  But  he  saw  not -this,  that  the  people's  not  having 
the  doctrine  was  .a  .necessary  .consequence  -of  Moses's  not 
teaching  k.  And  no  wonder,  w  hen  we  consider  hx-nv  the 
came  by  his  principle,  .that  te  -should  understand  none  of 
its  consequences.  Hence  4t  k  £hat  he  so  iguorantly 
accuses  me  of  having  confounded  these  tico  things 
throughout  my  book.  That  is,  of  taking  advantage  of,  and, 
all  the  way,  inforcing  a  necessary  cpnseq.uence  from  a 
certain  principle. 

But,  one  word  more  with  him  on  this  head.  He  says, 
Moses  liMcl  itjwt  in  commission.  A\'hat  things  l?e  of  the 
bookofJ^P  Jle  says  he  thinks  of  it  vexy  dijjen'ntly 
from  inc.  It  is  prudently  said,  and  enough  .-to  secure  his 
credit,  and  'keep  him  orthodox.  \V,e  \\  ill  ibj  once  sup.- 
port  IHS  wiodcsty;  a«d  conceive  him  -to  hold,  that  the 
book  was  written  by  A  foxes;  3*3  d  that  the  JamQUS  text, 
in  the  iiineteenth  chapter,  relates  .to  the  resurrection. 
But  thea  what  becomes  of  the  principle  .of  Moses  s  JIQ 
commission?  Or  will  he  say  Mows,  did  not  write  it,  and 
ithat  the  text  in  -the  aiaeteei>th  clu-i|)ter  does  not  relate  to 
,a  resurrection?  What  then  becomes  of  his  orthodoxy? 
See  now  what  it  js  to  be  sharking  the  principles  of  the 
profane.  Common  sense  cries  out  against  this  unsanctj- 
lied  commerce, 

Veto  c?$c  talc  luminis  commerciunL 

*  f 


REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  T. 

If  the  good  man  will  believe  me,  he  is  out  of  his  way. 
I  would  advise  him  to  return  again  as  fast  as  he  can  into- 
the  old  Dunstable  road  of  Moses  and  a  future  state  j or 
crcr.     This  was  only  an  intemperate   fit  of   zeal   that 
hurried  him  half  seas  over,  before  he  knew  where  he  was, 
or  had  time  to  look  about  him.     For  what  is  it  he  is 
doing?     "Moses  instituted  the  whole  of  an  entire  new 
<c  religion :  enjoins  nothing  to   be  added   to,   nor  taken 
:'  from  it :  purposely  omits  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state, 
"  because  it  v\as  not  in  his  commission,  but  reserved  for 
"  the  great  Redeemer  of  mankind ;  and  yet  the  people, 
"  to  whom  he  gave  this  religion,  had  the  doctrine  of  a 
"  future  •  state  as  of  national  belief,  all  along  from  his' 
"  time,  to  the  Captivity,  though  v\e  can  find  no  footsteps1. 
"  or  traces  of  it  in  their  history." 

Credat  JUDJEUS  Apdh, 

may,  I  believe,  be  given  in  answer  to  this  man's  creed  with 
greater  propriety  than  ever  it  was  applied  since  Horace 
first  used  it,  After  this,  Is  such  a  writer  to  be  argued  with  r 
To  talk  of  a  doctrine  not  being  in  the  commission  of  a 
minister  of  God,  because  it  was  reserved  for  a  future 
ri  ;e ;  and  yet  that  the  people  on  whom  Iris  ministry  was 
employed  had  all  along  this  very  doctrine,  is  a  mockery 
both  of  God  and  man.  For  why  was  not  Moses  per 
mitted  to  teach  it,  but  because  the  knowledge  of  it  was 
reserved  for  a  future  age  ?  Or  if  they  were  then  taught 
it,  or  had  it,  what  hindered  but  J\ loses  might  have  taught' 
it?  ,  J3e  not  deceived;  as  God  is  not  imcktd,  so  neither 
does  he  mock  his  creatures.  In  short,  this  reasoning  of 
my  adversary  is,  verbis  t oiler e,  re  povere,  the  reverse  of 
the  Epicurean  :  but  perhaps  he  may  like  it  the  better  for 
it,  as  'tis  paying  those  Jewish  Epicureans,  the  8adducees>  in 
kind  :  and  with  this  class  of  Answerers  the  reverse  of 
icrortg  is  always  right.  But  I  am  quite  ashamed  of  my 
Anonymous. — Let  the  reader  only  take  notice,  that  this  is 
the  sole  point  now  remaining  in  dispute  between  us. 

3.  As  to  the  palwqry  argument,  (of  a  future  state  of 
rewards  and  punishments  not  -being  known  to  the  Je\cs, 
or  making  part  of  their  national  doctrine  from  Moses  to 
the  Captivity)  taken  from  the  consideration  of  their  ic hole 
history,  as  delivered  in  the, Bible;  which  t^ie  reader  has 
H  an 


Appx.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.        311 

an  account  of  in  this  Review  .[p.  294] ;  our  Answerer  has 
.not  so  much  its  attempted  to  touch  upon  it:  though, 
against  him,  who  owns  Mpscs  neither  did,  nor  could 
teach  u  future  state,  it  comes  with  a  redoubled  bound. 
Indeed  at  page  102,  of  his  pamphlet,  he  has  \ke  caurngi'. 
-to  quote  it  m  part,  and  still  greater  neither  to  pretend  to 
answer  it,  nor  to  confess  its  force ;  'but,  to  eutd  all,  he 
drops  it  in  this  manner — //'/vj/,  truly  Sit\  there  is  a 
difficulty  in  conceiving  it:  and  yet  icere  the  case  as  you 
have  represented  it,  I  should  >not  venture  to  call  it  a 
DEMONSTRATION.  J/tTe  'negative  proofs  are  of  M 
•ethers  most  uncertain,  &c.  Venture!  Why  I  see  you 
dare  not  venture  so  much  as  to  look  it  in  the  face.  And 
what  you  may  call  it  behind  its  back,  will  1x3  but  the 
railing  of  a  baffled  coward.  No,  ycrar  genius  has  directed 
you  to  a  litter  task;  and  you  go  on  to  prove  that  the 
body  of  the  Jcics  had  the  doctrine,  from  texts  nothing 
relating  to  the  matter,  but  such  as  have  been  forced  into 
this  service  by  Jeics  and  system-makers — as,  dttys  of  pil 
grimage —being  gatha'd  to  their  fathers — giving  up  the 
ghost — God's  krhtghtg  every  work  into  jut/gin  cut — the. 
righteous  having  hope  in  his  death — David's  hope  being 
m  Gcd—kis  behig  a  stranger  and  sigoumer — And  tiie 
joke  of  it  is,  he  tells  me  I  might  have  found  out  this 
meaning  in  them  too,  had  I  but  consulted  his  commen 
tators.  And  witli  this  miserable  recocta  cnunbe  his 
whole  pamphlet  is  stuffed  out  from  side  to  -side. 

4.  I  had  introduced  r-ny  evidence  from  the  writers  of 
$he  New  Testament  in  'this  manner.  "  But  what  is  of 
"  greatest  weight,  tlie  inspired  writers  of  the  New  Tes- 
"  tament  expressly  declare  the  same.  They  assure  us 
41  that  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and 
*.'  punishments  did  not  make  part  of  the  ^Mosaic  dispen- 
•'  sation*."  On  which  our  Writer  thus  remarks :  "  The 
"  Christian  reader  perhaps  may  be  at  a  loss  to  -k«o\v  why 
41  the  testimony  of  tlie  inspire^  writers  of  the  Kcw 
"  Testament  should  be  of  greater  weight  in  this  case 
"  than  the  inspired  \vritcrs  of  tl^e  Old.  But  what  is  worse, 
"  unbelievers  (for  whose  couvictiqn  I  presume  your 
"  demonstration  is  intended)  may  ask  by  what  right  the 
tf  Authors  of  tlie  New  Testament  came  to  be  admitted  as 
*  l)iv.  Leji.  Uook  v.  §  vi,  init. 

x  4  "  evidence, 


312  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Parti. 

"  evidence,  who  lived  at  the  distance  of  so  many  hundred 
"  year's,'*  §c.  p.  66.  Which  shall  we  here  most  admire? 
the  charitable  insinuation  in  the  first  part?  or  the  shrewd 
remark  in  the  second?  Thou  flower  of  divines  !  I  did 
not  say  that  the  testimony  of  the  inspired  writers  of  the 
New  Testament  has  greater  weight  than  an  equal  testi 
mony  of  the  inspired  writers  of  the  Old.  But  that  their 
testimony  in  the  case  in  hand  had  greater  weight,  as  (in 
the  opinion  of  such  as  you  whom  I  am  here  endeavouring 
in  vain  to  convince)  u  positive  proof  by  express  decla 
ration,  is  stronger  than  a  negateoG  arising  from  an  omis 
sion.  It  was  but  just  before  this  very  man  was  quarrelling 
with  negative  evidence.  But  what  in  worse,  says  he, 
unbelievers  •/>.<///  ask,  £c.  What !  that  which  nothing 
concerns  them  ?  I  had  observed  over  and  over,  that  they 
all  agreed  to  this  truth,  and  that  therefore,  in  this  part, 
I  addressed  myself  to  believers.  But,  ashamed  himself 
of  this  disingenuity,  he  retracts  his  own  objection; — But 
as  1  am  arguing,  says  he,  with  you  on  Christian  prin 
ciples,  I  can  have  no  benefit  froni  this  plea.  p.  67.  And 
was  not  1  arguing  with  him,  as  well  as  he  with  me? 
Can  he  blush  for  this,  or  must  I  ? 

5.  In  sect.  vi.  of  the  fifth  book  of  The  Divine  Legation^ 
where  I  endeavour  to  prove  the  minor  proposition  from 
the^sew  Testament,  I  introduce  the  discourse  thus,  u  This 
"  evidence  may  be  divided  into  two  parts,  tliGjirst  proving 
"  that  temporal  rewards  and  punishments  were  the  sane- 
"  tion  of  the  Jewish  dispensation  ;  the  second,  that  it  had 
"  no  other."     Now  let  the  reader  turn  to  this  Writer, 
p.  07,cy  sey.  and  he  will  see  how,   by  the  vilest  prevari 
cation,  he  has  argued  against  the  Jirst  sort  brought  by 
me  to  prove  temporal  rewards  the  sanction,  as  if  1  hacl 
brought  them  to   the   same  purpose  with  the  second, 
namely,  to  prove,  that  there  was  no  other, 

6.  With  the  same  spirit  it  is  that  he  endeavours  to, 
make   me   contradict   myself,    where    in    one    place  *, 
speaking  of  the   patriarchs   (who,    I   own,    referred  tq 
//e#.  xi.  ver.  13  and  14.  saw  the  promises  ajar  off  and. 
were  persuaded,  fyc.)  1  say  that  even  tiiey,  the  sacred 
v,  ritu    assures  us,   had  not  received  the  promises,  refer 
ring  to  vcr.  39.     And,  in  another  place*,   speaking  of 

*  Div.  Lfg,  Book  vi.  §  4. 

the 


Appx.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.        313 

the  same  39th  verse,  I  say  the  sacrecl  writer  is  speaking 
here  of  the  faithful  Israelites  in  general.  Hence  this 
great  critic  says  I  am  guilty  of  a  manifest  contradiction, 
and  laments  in  his  kind  way,  that  these  passages  are  bcth 
suffered  to  stand  to  shame  one  another,  p.  97.  They  shall 
stand  for  a  better  purpose,  to  shame  all  such  scribblers  as 
are  not  yet  come  to  their  elements ;  and  do  not  so  much 
as  know  that  omne  inajus  coHtlne)  in  sc  minus.  For  if 
in  verse  39  the  sacred  writer  be  speaking  of  the  faithful 
Israelites  in  general,  had  L  not  reason  to  say  from  thence, 
that  LFEN  the  Patriarchs  were  included  ?  However, 
hr  might  at  least  have  understood  so  much  English  as  to 
know  that  the  conjunction  crcti  implies  not  exclusion,  but 
extension. 

7.  He  insults  me,  and  puzzles  himself  with  this  ques 
tion,  "If  the  ancient  heathen  legislators  taught  it  [a, 
u  future  state]  or  if  the  main  body  of  the  Jewish  nation 
"  believed  it  before  the  coming  of  Christ,  how  was  it 
"  brought  to  light  by  the  Gptyel?  If 'this  text  will  stand 
"  with  supposing  that  the  general  knowledge  of  a  future 
"  state  was  generally  received  amongst  the  Jews  from  the 
"  time  of  trie  Maccabees  down  to  Christ,  will  you  be 
"  pleased  to  inform  me  why  it  will  not  as  well  stand  with 
"  supposing  that  they  hud  this  doctrine  for  as  many  ages 
"  backward?" — And  for  fear  I  should  not  answer  him  (as 
indeed  he  had  reason)  he  answers  it  himself.  To  bring 
to  light  does  not  here  sigiufij  to  discover  what  before  was 
absolutely  unknown.  It  signifies  THEREFORE  iht  more 
open  or  public  manifestation  of'  what  before  was  known 
either  imperfectly '  or  but  to  a  few.  pp.  72,  73.  Egre 
gious  divipe  !  If  it  does  not  signify  that  (you  say)  it  must 
Dignify  this.  Peat  your  brains  no  further:  for  once  I'll 
tell  you,  if  signifies  neither;  but  (what  your  systems  never 
dreamt  of)  that  this  was  the  first  time  of  its  being  revealed 
III  God,  cither  to  the  Jeicish  people  as  a  nation,  or  to 
mankind  in  general.  The  sacred  writer  did  not  deign  to 
call  that,  'bringing  to  light,  which  was  hatched  in  the 
bosom  of  superstition,  and  soon  became  polL  t  d  with  a 
thousand  fables  in  passing  through  the  impuie  hands  of 
.system-making  Jews  and  Gentiles.  From  whence  I  rea 
sonably  concluded  it  was  never  targht  by  Gcd  to  the 
Jewish  people  throughout  the  period  in  question.  What 

was 


314  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

%vas  taught  by  man  is  another  thing,  and  entirely  out  of 
the  question.  But  you  do  not  understand  this :  1  believe 
so:  nor,  I  will  say  that  for  you,. scarce  any  one  general 
proposition  throughout  my  whole  hook. 

S.  I  said  that  the  doctrine  of  a  future  life  and  resur- 
tection  \vas  not  national  till  the  time  of  the  Maccabees 
lie  tells  me,  he  Imows  I  will  say  that  they  had  it  from 
the  prophets,  yet  the  prophets  iccre  dead  tico  hundred 
years  before.  JVliy  then  (says  he)  could  not  the  Jews 
learn  this  doctrine  from  the  very  frst,  as  well  as  their 
posterity  at  the  distance  of  ages  afterwards?  pp.  1 1  2, 
1 1 3.  This  sorely  distresses  our  theologaster  :  yet,  in 
stead  of  humbling  himself  under  the  weight  of  his  own 
dulness,  he  turns,  as  is  his  way  throughout,  to  insult  the 
Author  of  The  Diane  Legation.  Now,  though  this 
usage  deserve  no  favour,  1  will  try  to  open  his  under 
standing. — The  prophets  had  expressed  a  temporal  de 
struction  and  restoration  in  the  figurative  terms  of  death 
and  resurrection.  This  being  agreeable  to  the  language 
of  those  times,  the  people,  full  only  of  ideas  of  a  tem 
poral  nature,  rested  in  the  primary  sense.  But  \vhea 
by  the  total  withdrawing  the  extraordinary  providence 
of  God,  these  people  (who  had  right  notions  of  his 
Being  and  attributes)  had  once  begun  to  entertain  the 
reasonable  hopes  of  a  future  state ;  they  would  then  as 
naturally  search  their  scriptures  for  support.  And  thea 
it  was  they  first  began  to  understand  that  those  prophecies 
had  a  secondary  sense,  and  a  sublimer  meaning.  In  this 
sense,  and  on  this  account  it  is  that  I  say,  they  receive  the 
doctrine  of  the  resurrection  from  the  prophets.  If  he 
ask  me,  uith  his  usual  insolence,  how  I  come  to  know 
that  they  received  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  from 
the  prophets,  I  will  tell  him  this  too,  which  is  more  than 
his  Genera  systems  could  inform  him  of,  that  the  doctrine 
\vas  nowhere  else  to  be  had.  If  all  this  will  not  satisfy 
him,  let  us  turn  the  tables,  \vhile  I  question  him.  Tlie 
prophets  prophesy  of  the  birth,  office,  death,  and  passion, 
of  Jesus.  The  Jeu's  in  general,  till  the  coming  of  C  'hrist, 
and  some  time  after,  mistook  this  prophecy  for  the  [  TO- 
mise  of  a  temporal  deliverer,  quite  different  'from  the 
Messiah  of  mankind  ;  yet,  after  the  'resurrection,  they 
understood  better.  lion  so?  I  ask  in  his  own  words-, 

h 


Appx.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.        31 5 

Is  it  likely  that  the  sons  should  have  learnt  from  the  dead' 
prf  -hets  what  the  'fathers  could  riot  learn  Jrom  the 
living?  p.  1 12.  He  \\oukl  be  hard  put  to  it,  I  believe, 
for  a  pertinent  reply,  without  condescending  to  use  the 
answer  I  have  provided  lor  him  above, — What  is  here 
said  will  serve  for  an  answer-  to  the  same  kind  of  ob 
jection  urged  again  at  page  50,  where,  from  my 
owning  that  some  passages,  which  relate  literally  to' 
temporal  things,  had  a  spiritual  and  sublimer  meaning, 
he  supposes  the  Jews  of  those  times  must  needs  have 
found  it  out. 

9.  Again,  "  Though  here  (says  he)  you  seem  to  be  of 
"  opinion  that  it  will  in  nothing  affect  the  practice  of 
"  virtue  nticther  a  future  state  is  believed  or  not,  pro- 
"  vided  the  will  of  God  is  allowed  to  he  the  foundation  of 
"  morality  ;  yet,  in  your  Preface  to  the  Jews,  you  tell  them 
"  that  the  Jewish  religion  must  want  much  of  absolute 
"  perfect  ion,  because  it  wants  a  doctrine  so  essential  to 
"  religion.  It  is  inexplicable  to  me,  Sir,  how  that  should 
<c  be  essential  to  religion,  by  the  want  of  which  the  practice' 
"  of  virtue  will  in  nothing  be  affected."  pp.  130,  131.— 
And  are  you  indeed  so  dull  as  you  pretend?  or  is  this 
only  a  mask  for  your  modesty,  to  hide  vour  blushes,  for 
so  shameless  a  prevarication :  What  man  living  but  your' 
learned  self  does  not  see,  that  where  I  speak,  in  the  first 
case,  of  the  practice  of  virtue,  on,  what  /  call,  the  true 
foundation  of  morality,  I  am  considering  it  under  an 
extraordinary  providence  amongst  the  Jews  of  old  :  and' 
where,  in  the  Preface,  of  a  future  state  as  essential  to 
religion,  I  am  considering  it  under  an  ordinary  and  COJH-- 
won  providence,  amongst  the  Jews  of  the  present 
times  ?  Yet  in  this  very  page  (p.  131)  has  this  man  the' 
modest  assurance  to  say,  TRUTH  is  WHAT  I  SEEK. — It 
fnajpbssibly  be  so ;  and  therefore  I  will  take  a  little  more' 
pains  with  him.  What,  then,  let  me  ask  him,  has  the 
purity  of  virtue  to  do  with  the  perfection  of  religion,  so 
as  that  they  must  necessarily  imply  one  another ;  and  I 
be  accused  of  contradiction,  for  saying,  that  the  Jewish 
virtue  was  pure,  and  yet  their  religion  imperfect?  Will 
not  this  very  man  himself  say  the  same  thing,  though, 
I  ween,  for  different,  reasons  r  But  do  the  different 

reasons 


REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Parti 

reasons  of  an  assertion,  make  the  same  assertion  a 
contradiction  in  me,  and  a  plain  truth  in  him  ?  Allow 
him  but  a  future  state  for  .his  Jews,  and  their  virtue,  then, 
becomes  pure :  but  Mill  he  say  their  religion  is  perfect  ? 
But,  because  tliere  .can  be  no  perfect  religion  without 
pure  virtue,  )ie  concluded  the  other  way,  that  there  could 
be  no  pure  virtue  without  &  per  feet  religion;  and  so  has 
patched  me  in  his  contradiction-trap,  which  he  has  laid, 
with  the  same  success,  I  don't  know  how  often,  througu.- 
out  the  course  of  this  debate. 

And  here  the  judicious  reader,  I  am  sure,  cannot  but 
smile  to  see  him  insinuate  (p.  129),  with  a  sneer,  that 
Bishop  J$ull  must  needs  Jje  a  stranger  to  my  scheme,  as 
he  thinks  it,  of  moral  obligation,  lie  supposed,  in  good 
earnest,  the  Bishop  could  read  his  Bible,  as  he  has  done, 
without  seeing  that  the  ground  of  this  obligation  is  there 
made  to  be  the  mil  of  God.  But  this  it  is  to  have  to  do 
with  a  head  whose  sense  is  all  run  to  system. 

10.  Once  more.  In  that  miserable  sophistical  shuffle 
tyith  those  few  of  my  ^rguments,  on  the  Case  of  Abra 
ham,  which  he  dares  venture  to  encounter  in  his  App&idix, 
he  brings  it  as  a  contradiction,  that,  after  I  had  said,  the 
information,  conveyed  in  the  command  to  otter  Isaac, 
vvas  for  Abrahams  sole  we,  I  should  then  suppose  his 
family  knew  of  it.  And  in  this  lie  triumphs  with  his 
usual  vivacity  and  success,  pp.  167,  168.  Here  again 
I  am  at  a  loss,  as  things  are  so  equally  balanced,  to  know 
which  was  at  fait  in  this  place,  his  head  or  heart ;  but 
ijo  matter :  they  are  both  past  my  mending.  I  will  turn 
to  the  reader. — Where  I  speak  of  the  information's  being 
given  for  Abrahams  sole  use,,  I  am.  .assigning  a  reason  for 
the  ohscurity  of  the  historical  relation,  so  far  as  concerns 
the  information,  which  I  suppos.od  to  be  conveyed  in  the 
command :  consequently,  his  sole  use  is  opposed  to  the 
Jewish  people,  when  the  history  of  the  command  was 
Britten ;  and  not  to  his  own  family,  haat  '.awl  Jacob, 
when  the  command  was  given ;  whom  I  all  <*long  reckon 
amongst  those  patriarchs  who  had  some  knowledge  of  the 
redemption  of  mankind.— Suppose  it  should  be  .thought 
proper  to  give  this  man  a  dignity  for  his  works  .y<//r,  in 
labour  of  low,  and  he  should  he  told  it  was  for 


Appx.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.         31  £ 

sole  use;  he  would  be  apt,  I  suspect,  to  think  that  this 
rather  excluded  the  body  of  the  poor  and  needy,  than  his 
own  dear  family. 

1 1.  Again — "'  Nor  (says  he)  will  the  Pagan  Fable  of 
"  Dianas  substituting  a  hirid  in  the  place  oflphigcnia 
"  at  all  help  your  unbeliever.     This  did  not,  say  you> 
"  make  idolaters  believe  that  she  therefore  abhorred  human 
"  sacrifices.     But  do  not  they  themselves,  or  have  not 
"  you  assigned  a  very  proper  and  sufficient  reason  why  it 
"  did  not,  tv':.  that  they  had  been  before  persuaded  to  the 
66  contrary  ?     Where  human  sacrifices  make  a  part  of 
"  the  settled  standing  religion ;  the  refusal  to  accept  a 
"  human  sacrifice  in  one  particular  instance,  may  indeed 
"  rather  be  looked  upon  as  a  particular  indulgence  than 
"  as  a  declaration  against  the  thing  ingress.     But  where 
"  the  thing  was  commanded  but  in  one  single  instance^ 
"  and  the  command  revoked  in  that  very  instance  (which 
"  is  our  present  case)  such  revocation  in  all  reasonable 
"  construction  is  as  effectual  a  condemnation  of  the  thing 
"  as   if  God  had  told  Abraham,  in  so  many  words,  that 
"  he  delighted  not  in  such  sacrifices."  p.  161.     I  quote 
this  out  of  mere  charity,  because  it  looks  like  sense ; 
and  is  the  only  thing  that  does  so  throughout  the  whole 
pamphlet.     But  this  fair  appearance  is  only  in  profile. 
What  it  has  on  one  side,  it  wants  on  another;  and  betrays 
the  grossest  ignorance  of  antiquity.     At  this  very  time 
human   sacrifices   had    overspread    the    superstition   of 
Canaan.     And  thence   it  is  that  the  Deist's  argument 
receives  its  force.     The  family  of  Abraham,  say  they, 
who  found  the  same  practice  commanded  him  which  they 
saw  esteemed  by  all  the  Pagans  round  about  as  the  sub- 
limest  height  of  piety,  a  practice,  as  appears  from  Scrip 
ture,  not  positively  forbidden  but  by  the  law  of  Moses, 
would,  in  the  case  they  put,  be  naturally  tempted  to 
think  as  favourably  of  it  as  those  Pagans,  who  under* 
stood  that  Diana  required  Ip/tigema,  though  she  accepted 
a  hind  in  her  stead. 

12.  After  all  these  victories,  he  may  be  well  excused 
the  interposing  with  his   own  good  will  and  pleasure. 
"  If  it  is  your  intention  (says  he)  to  proceed,  and  it  were 
"  not  too  great  a  presumption  in  me  to  offer  my  advice;. 
"  it  should  be  to  lay  the  weight  of  your  argument,  not 

"upon 


3i 8  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  I. 

"  upon  this,  that  the  Jews  knew  nothing  of  a  future  state  ; 
"  but  upon  this,  that  the  laic  of  Moses  had  made  no  pro- 
(t-  vision  for  it.  IF  THIS  PRINCIPLE  is  ALL  YOU  WANT, 
"  IT  WILL  STAND,  and  you  \\ill  have  nothing  to  answer 
"  for,  but  the  ill  judgment  of  advancing  and  taking  so 
"much  pains  to  support  another  point  \\ith  \vhich  your 
"conclusion  has  nothing  to  do."  p,  134.  Goodly  and 
gracious  !  Here  he  shews  how  capable  a  reader  he  is  of 
The  Divine  Legation.  He  confesses  not  to  know  whe 
ther  this  principle  is  all  /  want  to  establish  my  demon 
stration  ;"  and  yet  he  will  turn  answerer.  But  what  the 
connexion  of  a  long  chain  of  reasoning  hindered  him 
from  seeing,  I  hope  this  short  view  will  bring  to  light : 
and  that  the  second syllogism  will  inform  him,  that  WHAT 
HE  GRANTS  is  ALL  I  WANT.  For  if  Moses  would  leave 
his  people  to  get  or  keep  a  doctrine  as  they  could,  so 
necessary,  and  believed  by  him  to  be  so  necessary,  under 
an  ordinary  providence,  to  religion  and  society,  we  must 
needs  conclude,  he  was  well  assured,  that  his  institution 
could  do  without  it ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  the  defect 
would  be  supplied  by  the  administration  of  an  extraordi 
nary  providence.  The  dispute,  therefore,  seems  now  to 
be  at  an  end  between  us.  He  owns,  I  have  gained  npy 
point :  that  I  have  got  to  the  goal :  all  that  he  would 
now  dispute  with  me  is  the  road.  I  must  take  the  track 
lie  marks  out  to  me  ;  and  /  have  nothing  to  answer  j  or 
but  the  ill  judgment  of  advancing  and  takin<f  so  much 

«/•    •  •  O  i/  O  O 

pains  to  support  another  point  with  which  nui  conclusion 
has  nothing  to  do.  Say  you  so,  kind  Sir  !  with  what  face 
then  could  you  tell  the  world,  just  before,  that  /  ought 
to  wake  amend*  jbr  the  wrong  1  have  done  to  religion  in 
the  second  volume  of  The  Divine  Legation,  in  which, 
instead  of  placing  Christianity  on  a  .surer  bottom,  1  have 
0)ily  furnished  out  more  handles  to  unbelievers?  p.  132. 
What !  Is  proving  the  divinity  of  Jlfvsess  religion,  a 
thing  ior  which  I  ought  to  make  amends  and  repent,  as  a 
wrong  done  to  Christianity?  Suppose  I  was  willing  to 
support  the  proof  in  a  way  you  do  not  like ;  you  confess 
that,  in  this,  /  have  nothing  to  amzver  for  but  the  ILL 
JUDGMENT  of  taking  pains  to  support  another  point  with 
which  my  conclusion  has  nothing  to  do.  Am  I  therefore, 
for  my  HI  Judgment,  to  be  ranked  amongst  the  injurious 

subvertcrs 


Appx.]     OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.        319 

.siibverters  of  Revelation  ?  What  then  will  become  of 
-yon  ?  But  such  as  these  seem  to  care  little  whether 
religion  be  true  or. false,  unless  k  can  be  supported  OR 
their  systems.  They  hail  been  bred  up  in  the  belief  that 
the  old  Jezcs,  as  well  as  their  laic,  \vcre  spiritual,  and 
then 

— Turpe  put  anf  par  ere  mhwribus,  $  qn& 
Imberbes  didiccre,  senes  pcrdcnda  fateri. 

After  this,  it  was  in  vain  for  the  Apostle  to  tell  them,  in 
the  person  of  a  Jeu\  We  know  that  the  law  is  s  PI  HIT  UAL, 
but  I  am  CARN  A  L.  However,  let  him  set  his  heart  at  rest 
(if  at  least  the  conscience  of  so  unjust  a  calumny  will 
suffer  him).  For  though  this  principle,  that  the  law  of 
Moses  made  no  provision  for  a  future  state,  be  all  I  want 
to  support  my  demonstration ;  yet  I  mean,  I  can  assure 
him,  to  secure  it  with  this  other,  that  the  body  of.  the 
Jews  for  some  ages  knew  nothing  of  it.  This  I  should 
do,  were  it  for  nothing  else  but  that  it  is  a  TRUTH. offen 
sive  to  bigots  and  their  systems  ;  by  which  they  have  done 
their  best  to  render  both  the  word  of  God,  and  reason  of 
man,  of  no  effect.  But  I  have  weightier  motives  :  I  shall 
Riake  it  serve  Jfor  the  noblest  purposes  of  religious  truth 
ami  piety. 

But  why  do  I  speak  of  these  matters  to  him;  who  is  so 
exceeding  ignorant  even  of  the  very  forms  of  argument,  that 
having  giveo  us  to  understand  that  he  saw  I  had  linished 
the  major  proposition  in  the  first  volume,  and  the  minor 
in  the  second,  he  goes  on  thus — "  As  your  conclusion  is 
"  to  be  the  subject  of  a  future  boo.k,  I  think  I  have  no 
"  right  to  meddle  with  it  at  present.  I  will  prejudge  you 
"  in-  nothing,  and  skill  therefore  leave  you  at  full 
"  liberty  to  cox NEc/r  IT  V/ITH  YOUR  PREMISSES,  as  you 
"  shall  find  yourself  able."  p.  4.  Here  he  plainly  ap 
pears  not  to-  understand  what  natwaL  connexion  there  is 
between  the  major,  minor,  and  conclusion.  I  had  learnfc 
that  the  CONCLUSION  had  been  CONNECTED  with  the 
PREMISSES  by  Aristotle  long  ago;  but  it  seems,  so  un 
happy  still  am  I,  that  the  thing  is  yet  to  do.  Thanks  indeed 
to  this  .merciful  divine  I — /  am  left  at  fall  liberty  to  do 
it,,  as  /  thall  jind  my^lf  able, 

1,  But 


320  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        fPart  L 

13.  But  one  word  more,  and  I  have  done.     "  Whether 
"  (says  he)  you  intend  to  proceed,  or  will  suffer  yourself 
"  to  be  wholly  diverted  from  your  purpose  by  matters  of 
"  another  kind  /CM  suitable  to  your  clerical  junction,  you 
"  best  know.     But  give  me  leave-  to  say,  Sir,  you  are  a 
"  debtor  to  the  public  ;  and  I   hope  that  in  your  next 
"  volume  \ou  will  make  some  amends,  for  the  wrong  you 
"  have  done  to  religion  in  this ;  in  which,   instead  of 
"  placing   Christianity  upon   a  surer  bottom,  you  have 
"  only  furnished  out  more  handles  to  unbelievers.'"  p.  132. 
I  scarce  know  whether   I   am  not  to  take  this  for  pure 
kindness,  and  a  sort  of  friei-dly  impatience  for  my  third 
volume :  which   certainly,  if  it  would  hold,  he  has  con 
trived  a  very  speedy  way  to  obtain  :  and  that  is  by  proving 
it  a  debt.     And  this  at  least  I  will  do  him  the  justice  to 
say,  that  if  I  be  a  debtor  to  the  public,  it  must  be  for  the 
reason  he  so  candidly  suggests,  or  none  at  all.    But,  alas ! 
he  has,  as  a  good  friend  in  the  like  case  might  have,  his 
doubts  and  his  fears.     lie  questions  whether  I  will  not 
suffer  myself  to  be  wholly  diverted  from  my  purpose  by 
matters  of   another    kind    less  suitable   to  my  clerical 
function.     Less  suitable  than  what  ?   why,  according  to 
him,  than  writing  to  the  wrong  and  injury  of  religion, 
and  giving  more  handles  to  unbelievers.    What  I  am  then 
diverted  by,   must  be  very  unsuitable  indeed.     But  will 
the  good  man  be  so  kind  to  tell  us  what  this  diversion  is  ? 
Thank  you  for  that  indeed.     As  things  are  now  carried, 
and  left  in  the  dark,  who  knows  but  the  reader,  in  excess 
of  charity,  may  take  it  to  be  a  whore,  or  a  horse-race, 
or  a  good  job  of  simony;  a  party  pamphlet,  or  levee- 
hunting,  or  Exchange  Alley,  or,  in  short,  twenty  things 
besides;  eacli  of  them  sufficient  to  discredit  the  mere 
unorthodox  man!    With  this  good  luck,  I  make  no  doubt 
but  he  would  wipe  his  moittlt,  and  applaud  his  innocent 
address.    Well,  then,  since  the  meanness  and, malignity 
of  his   heart  will  not  suffer  him  to  tell,  /  will.     The 
diversion  he  hints  at,  and  yet  dare  not  name,  is  a  critical 
defence   and  illustration   of  the  writings  of  one   of  the 
greatest  Geniuses  of  this,  or  indeed  of  any  age,  to  con 
vince  the  prejudiced  and  ignorant,  that  the  incomparable 
writer  hath   been  always   on  the  side  of  truth,  virtue, 

and 


xJ    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.        321 

and  religion.  And  now  the  secret  is  out.  In  the  mean 
time,  I  dare  suppose,  that  our  Anonymous  holds  it  as  a 
thing  very  suitable  to  clerical  profession,  to  calumniate 
.his  brother  only  for  differing  from  him  in  opinion,  though 
in  the  support  of  that  very  cause  which  himself  pretends  to 
-espouse.  I  give  handles  to  unbelievers,  while  I  endea 
voured  to  prove  an  extraordinary  providence,  admini 
stered  in  the  Jewish  republic,  a  fact,  by  the  truth  or 
falsehood  of  which,  the  religion  of  Moses  must  stand  or 

'  O 

fall.  But  this  man,  and  his  fellows,  it  seems,  give  none, 
who,  in  writing  against  me,  are  so  far  from  saying  one 
word  in  its  behal}\  that  they  seem  rather  to  treat  it  as 
a  vision  of  the  Author  of  the  D.  L.  This  Writer  par 
ticularly  seems  to  have  given  no  obscure  intimations,  up 
and  down  his  pamphlet,  that  he  believes  nothing  of  the 
matter.  But  how  has  my  saying,  that  the  doctrine  was 
not  national,  but  unknown  to  the  body  of  the  Jewisk 
people  between  the  times  of  Moses  and  the  Captivity, 
given  more  handles  to  unbelievers?  Was  I  the  first 
broacher  of  the  opinion?  Look  upon  the  three  great 
testimonies  above.  Or  would  it  have  remained  hid,  had 
I  not  divulged  it?  Has  this  man  never  heard  of  the 
present  overflow  of  infidelity  ?  Or  has  he  ever  heard  of 
o.ne  Deist  that  believed  a  future  state  to  be  a  national 
doctrine  amongst  the  Jews  within  the  period  aforesaid  ? 
Or,  to  be  plain  with  him,  is  there  indeed  more  than  a 
few  bigots  like  himself  that  now  believe  it?  Yv  hat  was 
then  to  be  done  ?  Here  was  a  very  general  opinion, 
grounded  upon  common  sense,  supposed  to  be  discredit 
able  to  Revelation.  I  examined  it.  On  examination  it 
appeared  to  me  a  truth.  Was  I  to  disguise  or  hide  it 
(according  to  the  principle  and  practices  of  these  men) 
because  it  gave  scandal?  Far  be  those  arts  from  every 
minister  of  the  Gospel !  I  well  knew,  if  it  were  a  truth, 
it  would  never  hurt  Revelation.  I  chose  then  to  give 
glory  to  truth;  and,  in  that,  to  the  God  of  truth: 
and,  by  so  doing,  I  became  enabled  to  demonstrate 
to  .unbelievers  that  this,  which  they  esteemed  a  dis^ 
credit  to  the  religion  of  Moses,  was  a  convincing  mark: 
of  its  divinity.  Arid  for  this,  ,  and  this  only,  I  am  said 
by  this  writer  to  have  wronged  religion,  and  given  more 
handles  Jo  infidelity.  But  I  forgive  him,  and  prty 
XI,  Y  that 


322  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I, 

that  God,   whose  holy  religion    I    am   defending,   may 
forgive  him  too. 

1 4.  jjtft  the  reader,  by  this  time,  must  needs  be  curi 
ous  to  know  what  it  was  that  could  provoke  our  Anony 
mous  to  write  with  so  much  acrimony  against  his  brother^ 
embarked  with  him  in  the  same  cause  of  religion,  while 
there  were  so  many  Infidel -tenters-  rennained  unanswered, 

Cumque  sitperba  foret  Babylon  spolianda  tiwplueis. 

And  for  w  hat  ?  a  vision,  nobody  will  thank  him  for,  un 
less  it  be  half  a  dozen  bigots  :  always  excepting  the 
venerable  J&vish  church,  of  which  he  has  shewn  himself 
*o  zealous  a  support.  She  surely  owes  him  her  best 
acknowledgments  for  keeping  her  children  close  attached 
to  her,  and  hardening  them  in  their  infidelity.  For,  were 
it  not  for  this  inveterate  error,  they  had  long  since  come 
over  to  the  faith  of  Jesus,  there  being  then  nothing  to 
obstruct  their  sight  in  the  manifest  Imperfection  of  the 
Law ;  to  prevent  which,  their  Leaders,  as  the  great 
Kpiscophis  informs  us,  took  so  much  pains  (so  well 
seconded  here  by  our  Anonymous)  to  ASSERT  THK  FAITH 
OF  THE  ANCIENT  JEWISH  CHURCH;  and  to  prove, 
that  their  forefathers  always  had  the  doctrine  of  a 
future  state,  Quicquid  mine  Jnd&i  multum  de  futiiro 
seculo  de  resurreettone  mortuoruni,  de  vita  ct'tenia  loquan- 
iut\  $  c\v  Lcgis  verbis  ea  ev  torque  re  pot  ins  quam  osten- 
dere  conentur,  NE  LEGEM  Mosis  IMPEUFEGTAM  ESSE 
cogantur  agnoscere  *.  For  he  cannot  sure  be  so  weak  to 
think  it  possible,  that,  when  he  has  agreed  with  them, 
that  their  church  always  had  a  future  state,  they  wilt 
agree  with  him,  that  Moses  did  not  teach  it.  All  this 
considered,  it  uould  have  been  very  difficult  to  divine  his 
motive  for  writing  against  me,  had  not  he  himself  fairly, 
and  without  disguise,  informed  us  of  it,  in  the  very 
entrance  on  his  work.  Not  to  mince  the  matter,  it  was 
that  little  reputation,  (yet  more  than  lie  could  bear)  which, 
it  seems,  the  Divine  Legation  had  accidentally  bestowed 
upon  its  Author. — "That  you  have  given  (says  our 
"  Anonymous]  great  proofs  of  your  learning  and  ingenuity, 
•'I- shall  not  dispute:  arid  you  have  had  a  fair  time, 
*  See  the  quotaiiori  above. 

"allowed, 


Appx.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.        323 

"  allowed  you  to  receive  the  COMPLIMENTS  OF  THE 
"  PUBLIC  on  that  score.  It  may  now  be  seasonable  to 
"  call  you  to  something,  which,  though  perhaps  less 
"  agreeable  to  you,  may  yet  be  more  profitable ;  and  that 
"  is,  to  consider  how  much  truth  you  have  advanced,  and 
"  what  real  service  you  have  done,  or  are  likely  to  do  to 
"  religion,  by  this  undertaking."  p.  34.  And  why  will  he 
not  dispute  the  great  proof*  of  my  learning  and  ingenuity? 
He  has  disputed  a  more  incontestable  thing;  the  truth, 
which  that  learning  and  ingenuity  were  employed  to 
illustrate :  and,"  if  these  appeared  with  any  distinction,  it 
was  solely  owing  to  the  advantage  of  the  subject. 

But  /  have  had  a  fair  time  allowed  me  to  receive  the 
compliments  of  the  Public.  How  allowed  me  ?  and  by 
whom  ?  certainly  not  by  such  writers  as  these.  For  if 
their  clamours  could  have  prevailed,  I  had  received  the 
public  odium  rather  than  its  compliments.  And  the  reader 
may  see,  by  the  short  list  given  of  them  in  the  beginning 
of  this  pamphlet,  that  those  clamours  begun  the  very 
moment  the  first  volume  of  The  Divine  Legation  ap 
peared  ;  and  have  continued  ever  since,  without  inter 
ruption,  to  the  publication  of  our  Author's  Epistolary 
Dissertation. 

But,  after  all,  what  were  these  compliments?  And 
where  have  they  lain  hid  ?  Nothing,  from  the  Public, 
ever  came  to  my  knowledge  but  the  calumnies  of  my 
adversaries.  In  some  sense,  indeed,  these  may  be  called 
compliments,  and  substantial  ones  too.  For,  next  to  the 
old  way  of  complimenting,  Laudari  a  laudato  Viro,  I 
prize  the  next?,  now  all  in  fashion,  vituperari  a  perditissimo 
quoque.  He,  perhaps,  may  think  the  sale  of  the  book 
a  good  substantial  compliment.  But,  for  that,  my  book 
seller  must  thank  them ;  especially  if  lie  gave  them  not 
their  pennyworth  for  their  money. 

However,  to  take  these, compliments  in  their  obvious 
sense.  I  know  of  nothing  for  which  I  had  more  reason 
to  expect  the  compliments  of  the  public,  than  for  the 
Alliance  between  Church  and  State,  as  it  was  a  defence 
(and  I  will  presume,  from  its  being  yet  unanswered,  an 
effectual  one)  of  the  justice  and  equity  of  our  present 
happy  establishment ;  at  a  time  when  the  enemies  of  all 

Y  a  Church 


324  REMARKS  OK  SEVERAL         [Part  I. 

Church  establishments  were  commonly  supposed  to  have 
demonstrated   it   to  be  indefensible.     Yet  what  public 
compliment  did  I  ever  receive  for  this  service?  unless  it 
:  may  be  reckoned   a  compliment,    that  .those,  in  whose 
I  behalf  it  was  particularly  written,  have  never  yet  pub 
licly  disavowed  the  free  and  moderate  principles  on  which 
it  goes.     But  that,  the  honest  layman  will  perhaps  say, 
is  no  bad  compliment  to  themselves. 

I  am  here  all  along  pleading  for  my  adversary.  For 
had  I  indeed  received  the  compliments  he  talks  of,  he 
\vould  find  it  very  difficult  to  bring  his  modesty  off  unhurt. 
The  wrong  judgment  of  the  Public  being,  in  that  case, 
the  principal  object  of  his  pamphlet:  the  drift  of  which 
is  to  shew  that  I  deserved  no  compliment,  as  1  had  con 
founded  and  mistaken  the  question,  run  into  contradic 
tions,  and  done  injury  to  Christianity :  nay,  even  in  this 
very  place,  where  he  talks  of  the  great  proofs  of  my 
learning  and  ing&t&ity,  he  cannot  forbear  insinuating 
that  I  liave  advanced  no  truth,  nor  done  any  real  service 
to  religion.  Miserable  then,  indeed,  is  that  learning  and 
ingenuity!  Well  does  iie  say  he  would  not  dispute  them. 
For,  for  any  thing  they  are  worth,  there  they  may  lie ; 
and  he  may  safely  trust  to  time  to  revenge  his  quarrel 
on  them. 

From  all  this,  then,  we  must  conclude  that  these  public 

compliments  are  but  the  mormosvi  his  own  brain  :  things 

he  rather  Jen  red  than  saw ;   and  that,  through  the  false 

• 'consciousness  of  a  supposed  worth,  he  is  no  judge  of. 

'•In  this  troublesome  situation,  the  only  way  he  had  of 

/YAsWif  Mmst'lf  \v*.s  to  attempt  to  give  me  pain-  indeed 

.•the  only  caxe  such  writers  are  capable  of,  when  they  see, 

or  imagine  they  >see,  a  merit  in  others.     It  is  time  (says 

.  lie)  to  call  you'to  something  less  agreeable. 

Well,  but  if  it  be,  as  he  promises,  more  profitable,  he 

makes  me  sufficient  amends.  And  there  was  no  danger  of 

-'his  not  keeping  his  word  :  for  an  use  is  always  to  be  made  of 

the  calumnies  of  one's  enemies.  Besides,  it  must  be  a  poor 

filing  indeed  that  will  not  atford  -move -profit  than  the 

airy  "compliments  he  talks  of:  which  were  they  as  real  as, 

"lor  aught  appears,  they  are  imaginary,  I  solemnly  assure 

'him,  I  would  give  them  all  for  the  honest  satisfaction  of 

rj  having 


Appx.]     OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.         325 

having  made  one  single  convert ;  and  I  have  reason  to 
hope  I  have  made  many  by  my  writings,  from  irreligion 
to  the  faith  of  Jesus. 

However,  \he  profit  I  may  get  by  an  adversary  is  one 
thing ;  and  the  profit  he  may  propose  is  another.  Let  us 
see  then  what  our  Anonymous  aims  at.  It  is  (lie  tells  us) 
to  consider  how  much  truth  I  have  advanced,  cr  witat 
real  service  I  hare  done,  or  am  likely  to  do  to  rce!$wn>  by 
this  underiaJdng.  Modestly  intimating,  that  I  have  ad 
vanced  no  truth  ;  done  no  real  service,  nor  likely  to  do 
any  to  religion.  And  now,  methinks,  I  hear  the  equitable 
and  indignant  reader  crying  out,  Sum*  superbiam,  £c. 
And  certainly  if  this  liberty  may  be  allowed  in  any  case,  it 
must  in  this,  where  a  man's  honest  endeavours,  in  his 
proper  station,  to  serve  his  country  and  manidnd.  are 
blackened  by  the  dull  low  envy  of  an  anonymous  slan 
derer.  What !  Was  it  advancing  no  truth,  was  it  doing 
no  service  to  religion,  to  confute  the  Atheistic  principles 
of  Bayle,  the  immoral  doctrine  fef.jUJBfi&tfi&f,  and  settling 
morality  on  its  true  basis,  and  shewing  it  to  be  that  an 
which  Revelation  hath  placed  it?  To  justify  the  equity 
of  an  established  religion  ;  vindicate  the  Christian  fronv 
the  charge  of  a  persecuting  spirit;  shew  the  absolute 
necessity  of  religion  for  the  support  of  society,  and  yet 
that  it  had  its  original,  neither  from  priests  nor  states 
men,  but  from  truth,  and  truth's  great  Author  ?  Again, 
Was  it  advancing  no  truth,  was  it  doing  no  service  to 
religion,  to  shew  that  the  Mosaic  had  all  the  distinguish 
ing  marks  of  divinity;  to  vindicate  the  Bible  history 
against  the  greatest  modern  Philosopher  and  Chronologer ; 
to  explain  the  nature  of  the  Jewish  theocracy,  and,  by 
that,  to  justify  the  equity  of  those  two  famous  laws,  of 
punishing  for  opinions,  and  punishing  posterity  for  the 
crimes  of  their  forefathers ;  to  confute  the  most  able 
book  ever  wrote  against  Revelation,  the  Grounds  and 
•Reasons  of  the  Christian  Religion ;  and,  above  all,  to 
explain,  and  to  be  the  first  who  ever  did  explain,  the 
nature  of  types  in  action  >  and  secondary  senses  in  speech, 
on  which,  depend  altogether  the  rational  interpretation  of 
ancient  prophecies,  and  the  truth  of  the  mission  of 
Jesus? — But  for  the  further  confutation  of  so  wretched 
a  calumny,  the  reader  need  only  turu  back  again  to 

y  3  the 


326  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

the  view  I  have  here  given  of  the  argument  of  the  Divine 
Legation. .  Yet  none  of  these  matters,  no,  nor  an  hun 
dred  more,  has  he  so  ni'ich  a:-  touched  upon,  or  pretended 
to  confute.  Will  he  say  therefore  that  these  are  not  what 
he  meant,  when  he  promised  to  shew,  that  I  had  ad* 
vancc d  no  truth,  dene  no  real  service  to  religion?  But 
only  my  peculiar  argument  for  The  Dlcinc  Legation  rf 
Moses.  Why  then  did  he  make  his  charge  so  general, 
when  his  proof  w&s  so  confined?  As  his  modesty  will 
not  suffer  him  to  tell,  it  shall  be  helped  out.  The  reader 
then  must  know,  that  it  is  a  fundamental  maxim  with  all 
the  writers  of  this  class  (as  it  is  amongst  the  Jesuits) 
never  to  acknowledge  that  an  adversary  can  do  any  thing 
«'<?//,  lest  the  puhlic  should  take  it  into  their  heads  that 
other  things  are  not  so  ill  as  is  represented.  This  is  the 
wicked  spirit  of  controversy,  and  under  the  possession 
of  it  I  leave  him.  For  I  am  ashamed  of  having  wasted 
a  moment  with  so  unprofitable  a  writer. 

The  judicious  reader,  I  am  sure,  would  not  excuse  me 
if  he  thought  many  were  so  misemployed.  The  truth  is, 
the  reading  his  book  (which  is  the  first  I  ever  read 
through,  of  all  that  have  been  hitherto  wrote  against  me), 
and  the  writing  this  Appendix,  took  me  up  but  a  part 
only  of  this  one  evening.  Though  I  have  answered  every 
thing  in  it  worth  notice ;  or  that  had  the  least  chance  of 
misleading  a  well-meaning  reader.  However,  if  he  will 
teli  his  name,  and  shew7  his  face  ;  and  it  appears  that  the 
one  has  been  heard  of,  or  the  other  ever  seen  in  good 
company,  I  do  hereby  promise  to  give  his  Considerations 
on  the  Case  of  'Abraham,  &c.  a  distinct  answer,  para 
graph  by  paragraph,  in  the  manner  of  that,  to  one  much 
his  betters,  the  truly  learned  and  worthy  Editor  of  the 
book  of  Job,  Nay,  I  will  do  more  lor  his  encourage 
ment:  I  will  shew  as  particular  a  respect  to  the  ratfof 
.his  parr.phlet;  but  on  this  further  condition,  however, 
that  he,  at  the  Fame  time,  produce  me  some  ONE  com 
petent  judge  who  shall  say,  on  his  credit,  that  it  deserves 
any  other  answer  than  what  has  been  already  given  to  it. 
But  without  this,  a  final  adieu  to  his  nameless  nothing ; 
but  with  this  testimony,  however,  that  a  duller,  a  more 
•disingenuous,  or  ignorant  book,  1  never  read. 

December  17,  1743. 


Postscript]   OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.    327 


POSTSCRIPT. 

I  HAVE  said,  that  all  this  writer  has  urged,  from 
•texts  of  Scripture,  to  prove  a  future  state  in  the  Jewish 
dispensation,  is  so  utterly  contemptible,  and  void  of  sense, 
as  to  deserve  no  kind  of  answer.  But  that  he  may  not 
flatter  himself  in  the  imagination  of  any  other  cause  of 
my  neglect  of  him,  I  shall  here  examine  a  single  objection 
(sent  me  in  a  private  anonymous  Letter),  which  has  more 
plausibility  of  reason  than  all  his  arguments,  on  this 
head,  put  together.  And,  as  the  Author's  manner  of 
communicating  it  has  the  appearance  of  candour  and  love 
cf  truth,  l>e  will  always  deserve  more  regard  than  a 
thousand  such  writers  as  the  Examiner  of  the  second 
Proposition.  The  objection  is  in  these  words  :  "  Moses 
"  inforces  the  ohcdience  of  the  Israelites  upon  this  con- 
"  sideratian,  Yc  skull  therefore  keep  ?ny  statutes  and 
"judgments,  which  if  a  man  do,  he  shttU  lire  in  them  **. 
"  Here  is  a  promise  of  life  made  to  those  who  should 
"  observe  the  statutes  and  judgments  which  God  gave 
"  them  by  his  servant  Mpxe>r,  which  cannot  be  understood. 
"  of  this  temporal  life  oaly,  because  the  best  men  were 
"  often  cut  off  in  the  midst  of  their  days,  and  frequently 
"  suffered  greater  adversities  than  the  most  profligate 
"  sinners.  The  Jews  therefore  have  constantly  believed 
"  that  it  had  a  respect  to  the  life  to  come.  When  the 
"  lawyer  in  the  Gospel  had  made  that  most  important 
"  demand,  Master,  what  shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal 
"  life  '\  ?  our  blessed  Lord  refers  him  to  what  was  written 
"  in  the  Law ;  and,  upon  his  making  a  sound  and  judicious 
"answer,  approves  ot  it;  and  for  satisfaction  to  his 
"  question  tells  him,  This  do,  and  thou  shalt  live." — The 
objection  is  very  ingenious ;  and,  as  we  shall  see,  not  less 
artfully  managed. 

The  objector  would  have  the  promise  of  life  in  Levitl- 
cus  to  signify  eternal  life.  But  St.  Paul  himself  has 
long  ago  moderated  this  question  for  us,  and  declared 
for  the  negative.  A  dispute  arose  between  him,  and  the 

*  -Levit.  xviii.5.  -  t  kuke  x.  75, 

y  4  Judaizing 


32S  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  I. 

Judaizing  Christians,  concerning  what  it  was  that  just i- 
fcd  before  God,  or  entitled  to  that  eternal  life  brought  to 
light  by  the  Gospel.  They  held  it  to  be  the  works  of  the 
Law  (believing,  perhaps,  as  the  objector  assures  MS  they 
did,  that  this  text,  in  Leviticus,  had  a  respect  to  the  lije 
to  came)  :  St.  Paul,  on  tiie  contrary,  that  it  was  Jaith  in 
Jesus  the  Messiah.  And  thus  lie  argues. — "  But  that  no 
"  man  is  justified  by  the  Law  in  the  sight  of  God  it  is 
"evident;  for,  the  just  shall  live  by  Jaith.  And  the 
"  Law  is  not  of  faith  :  but  the  man  that  doth  them  shall 
"  live  in  them*." — As  much  as  to  say — That  no  man, 
can  obtain  eternal  life  by  virtue  of  the  Law  is  evident 
from  one  of  your  own  prophets  \Hab.~\  who  expressly 
says,  that  the  just  shall  LIVE  by  FAITH  f.  Now,  by  the 
Law,  no  rewards  are  promised  to  faith,  but  to  works 
only.*  The  man  that  DOTH  them  (says  the  Law,  in 
Levit.ty  shall  live  in  them, — Here  then  we  see  that  this 
very  te.vt  which  the  objector  brings  to  prove  eternal  life 
by  the  Law,  St.  Paul  urges,  to  prove  it  not  by  the  Laic. 
Let  us  attend  to  the  apostle's  argument.  He  is  to  shew, 
that  justification,  or  eternal  lij'e,  is  by  faith.  This  he 
does,  even  on  the  concession  of  a  Jew,  the  prophet 
Habakkuk;  who  expressly  owns  it  to  be  by  Jaith.  But 
the  Law,  says  the  apostle,  attributes  nothing  to  faith  ; 
but,  to  deeds  only,  "  which  if  a  man  do  he  shall  live  in 
them."  Now,  if,  by  life,  be  here  meant,  as  the  objec 
tor  supposes,  eternal  lije,  then  St  Pa-id's  argument  docs 
not  come  out  as  he  intended  it ;  namely,  that  faith  and 
not  the  works  of  the  Lawjustijy ;  but  thus,  \.\\&tbothjaitk 
and  the  works  of '  the  JMW  justify,  which  would  have 
satisfied  these  Judaizers,  (as  reconciling,  on  their  own 
prejudices,  Moses  and  Hahakkuk};  but,  by  no  means, 
our  apostle ;  whose  conclusion  on  this  question  (where 
discussed  at  large,  in  his  epistle  to  the  Romans)  is,  that 
a  man  is  justified  by  faith  WITHOUT  the  deeds  of  the 
Law^.  Ihe  very  drift  of  iiis  argument  therefore  shews 
us,  that  he  nmst  necessarily  understand  the  lije,  promised 
in  this  text  of  Leviticus,  to  be  TEMPORAL  lye  only.  But 
charitably  studious,  as  it  were,  to  prevent  all  possible 
chance  of  our  mistaking  him  on  so  important  a  point, 

*  Gcil.  iii.  II,  12.  t  Ch.ii.4. 

J  Ch.xviii.  5.  §  Kora.iii.28. 


Postscript]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS. 

he  immediately  subjoins,  Christ  hath  redeemed  us  from 
the  curxe  of  the  Law*.  Now  we  know  that  our  redemp 
tion  by  Christ  was  from  that  death  which  the  first  man 
brought  into  the  world :  this  was  the  curse  he  entailed 
upon  his  posterity.  The  apostle's  transferring  this  term' 
from  Adam  to  the  Law  shews,  therefore,  that,  in  his 
sentiments,  the  Law  had  no  more  a  share  in  the  redemp 
tion  of  fallen  man  than  Adam  himself  had.  Yet  it  is 
certain,  that  if  the  Law,  when  it  said.  He  who  kt&ps 
these  statutes  ami  judgments  shall  live  in  them,  meant  for 
ever,  it  proposed  the  redemption  of  mankind  as  certainly 
as  the  blessed  Jesus  himself  did,  when  he  said,  He  that 
believeth  in  me  shall  have  everlasting  life.  This  becomes 
demonstrablyFclear  if  St.  Paul's  reasoning  will  hold,  who 
surely  had  heard  nothing  of  this  prerogative  of  the  Law, 
when  he  said,  If  there  had  been  a  LAW  given  which 
could  have  given  life,  verily  righteousness  should  hatfe 
been  by  the  Law.  Where  observe,  I  pray  you,  the  force 
of  the  word  £woTroi?<r«i,  which  signifies  to  quicken,  or  to 
make  alive ;  plainly  intimating  the  same  he  had  said  in 
the  place  before  quoted,  that  those  in  subjection  to  the 
Law  were  under  a  curse,  or  in  the  state  of  death.— Let 
me  add  only  this  further  observation,  that  if  (as  the 
objector  pretends;  by  life,  in  the  text  of  Levit.  be  meant 
eternal  life ;  and  if  (as  the  apostle  pretends)  by  life  in 
the  text  of  Habakkuk  he  meant  eternal  lije :  then  will 
Moses  and  Habakkuk  be  made  directly  to  contradict  one 
another ;  the  first  giving  eternal  life  to  works ;  the  latter, 
toja/t/t. 

iJut  the  objector  would  insinuate,  that  Jesus  himself 
seems  to  have  fixed  this  sense  to  the  text  in  Leviticus  \ 
at  least  that  he  has  plainly  inferred,  that  eternal  life  was 
taught,  if  not  obtained  by  the  Law. —  "When  the  lawyer 
"  in  the  Gospel  (says  he)  had  made  that  most  important 
"  demand,  Master,  what  shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal 
"  'life  f  ?  our  blessed  Lord  refers  him  to  what  was  written 
:<  in  the  Law,  and  upon  his  making  a  sound  and  judicious 
"answer,  approves  of  it;  and  for  satisfaction  to  his 
"  question,  tells  him,  This  do  and  thou  shalt  live." — * 
Would  not  any  one  now  conclude  from  the  sense  here 
put  upon  the  words  of  Jesus,  that  the  sound  and  judicious 
*  Gal,  iii.  13.  f  Luke  x.  25. 

answer 


330  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

•Knxtccr  of  the  lawyer  must  have  been  a  quotation  of  the 
text  in  Leritkm,  or  at  least  some  general  promise  made 
to  the  observers  of  .the  whole  Law  of  Moses  ?  Nothing 
like  it.  On  the  contrary,  the  .lawyer's  answer -was  a 
quotation  of  only  one-  precept  of  the  Law,  Thou  shah 
lore  the  Lcrd  thy  God,  with  all  thy  heart,  &c.  and  thy 
neighbour  as  thy  self.  Now  how  much  soever  we  may 
ilifter  about  a  future  life's  being  held  out  by  the  Law 
through  a  Messiah  that  was  to  come,  I  suppose  we  are 
both  agreed  that  faith  in  the  M email.,  either  actual  or 
imputed,  is  necessary  to  obtain  this  future  life.  There 
are  but  two  ways  then  of  understanding  this  text  of 
St.  Luke,  neither  of  which  is  to  his  purpose.  The  first 
is  supposing  Jesus  included  faith  in  himself  in  this  pre 
cept  of  loving  God  with  all  the  heart,  &c.  which  w  ill 
appear  no  forced  interpretation  to  him  who  holds  Jesus 
to  be  really  and  truly  God;  as  I  suppose  we  both  do ; 
and  may  be  supported  by  a  circumstance  in  the  story,  as 
told  by  St.  Matthew  *,  though  omitted  by  St.  Luke,  which 
is  Jesus's  saying,  that  on  these  two  commandments  hang 
all  the  Laic  and  the  PROPHETS.  The  second  and  exacter 
interpretation  is,  that  Jesus  spoke  to  a  professing  fol 
lower,  who  pretended  to  acknowledge  his  mission,  and 
wanted  only  a  rule  rf  life.  For  Jesus  is  here  preaching 
the  Gospel  to  his  disciples*  and  a  lawyer  stood  up  ami 
tempted  him,  that  is,  on  the  false  fooling  of  a  disciple 
required  a  rule  of  life.  Now  in  either  case,  this  reference, 
of  Jesus  to  the  Law  must  imply  this,  and  this  only,  that 
without  righteousness  am!  holiness  no  man  shall  see  the 
Lord.  A  point  in  which,  I  suppose,  we  are  agreed — 
Ikit  stiil  the  objector  will,  say  that  these  words  of  Jesus. 
allude  to  the  words  of  Ahses.  Admit  they  do.  It  will 
not  follow,  as  he  seems  to  think,  that  they  were  given  to 
t  >r plain  them.  How  many  allusions  are  there  in  the  ^  w 
Testament  to  passages  in  the  Old,  accommodated  to  a 
•spiritual  sense,  where  the  texts  alluded  to  are  seen,  by 
all  but  Fanatics,  to  have  only  a  carnal?  And  even  irt 
this  very  allusion,  if  it  be  one,  we  find  that  the  promise 
made  to  the  observers  of  the  whole  Law  is  transferred 
to  the  observance  of  one  single  precept  in  the  moral  part 
of  it  but  let  us  grant  him  all  he  would  have;  and 

*  Matt,  xx ii.  40. 

admit 


Postscript.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.    331 

admit  that  these  words  of  Jesus  were  given  to  explain  the 
words  of  Aloses.  W hat  would  loilovv  irom  thence,  but 
that  the  promise  in  Leviticus  was  prophetical,  and  had  a 
secondary  sense,  of  a  spiritual  and  sublimer  import? 
Will  ihis  give  any  advantage  to  our  adversaries  ?  purely 
none  at  all.  And  yet  the  abuse  of  this  concession  is  all 
they  have  for  it,  to  support  their  systems.  Thus  the 
reader  has  seen  how  the  Examiner  of  the  second  Proposi 
tion  triumphs  on  my  assertion,  that  the  later  Jews  exco 
gitated  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  from  the  pro 
phetic  language  of  former  ages;  and  asks  (with  an 
ignorance  excusable  only  in  a  savage  to  his  catecbisl)  how 
these  Jews  came  to  be  more  quick-sighted  than  those 
contemporary  with  the  prophets  ?  I  had  in  vain  endea 
voured  to  teach  him  that  a  carnal  and  a  spiritual  sense 
(both  of  which,  we  are  agreed,  the  Law  had,  in  order  to 
fit  God's  word  to  the  use  of  two  dispensations)  implied 
an  ignorance  of  the  spiritual  sense  during  the  first  of 
them.  But  my  word  ought  to  go  for  nothing,  in  this 
case,  when  unsupported  by  Scripture.  Let  us  hear  then 
what  the  apostles  themselves  say  to  this  matter :  who,  in 
order  to  shew  the  superior  excellence  of  the  Gospel,  in 
their  reasoning  against  Jews  and  Judaizing  Christians, 
set  the  Law  in  contrast  to  it,  under  the  titles  of  the  law 
of  a  carnal  commandment ;  the  ministration  of  death ; 
the  law  cf works :  and  call  subjection  to  it,  subjection 
to  the  flesh.  Yet  these  very  writers  at  the  same  time 
own  that  the  Law  was  SPIRITUAL,  or  had  a  spiritual 
sense.  But  if  by  this  they  meant,  that  that  sense  was 
generally  understood  during  the  Law  dispensation,  their 
whole  argument  had  ended  in  the  highest  futility.  i;or 
then  it  was  not  a  law  of  a  carnal  commandment,  a 
ministration  of  death  ;  but,  indeed  a  law  of  the  spi 
rit,  a  ministration  of  life;  only  under  a  dead  and 
carnal  cover ;  whiqh,  being  clearly  seen  through,  was  no- 
other  than  a  foil  to  set  it  the  better  off:  and  consequently 
was  of  equal  dignity,  and,  though  not  of  equal  simplicity, 
yet,  indeed,  essentially  the  same  with  the  Gospel.  Thus 
we  see  into  how  high  a  degree  of  contempt  with  unbe 
lievers,  these  principles  of  my  adversaries  would  naturally 
bring  the  holy  apostles,  did  not  those  admirable  rea- 
poners  take  care  themselves  to  guard  against  so  horrid 

a  perversioa 


33*  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

a  perversion  of  their  meaning.  They  owned,  \ve  see, 
that  the  Law  had  a  .spiritual  .sense:  but  when,  and  by 
whom  discovered,  the  apostle  Paul  informs  us,  by  calling 
that  sense  the  NEWNESS  OF  SPITIT  *;  which  he  opposes 
to  the  oldness  of  the  letter,  that  is,  the  letter  of  the 
Laic.  In  the  former  part  of  the  verse,  he  speaks  of  the 
Law  being  dead  ;  and,  here,  of  its  being  revived  again 
with  a  new  .spirit,  in  contradistinction  to  the  oldness  of 
the  letter.  So  true  was  it,  what,  in  another  place,  he 
observes,  that  the  Laic  was  a  SHADOW  of  things  to  conic  \ 
but  the  BODY  was  oj  'Christ^.  The  shadow  not  of  a 
body  then  to  be  seen  or  understood,  as  our  adversaries 
imagine,  but  of  a  body  that  was  to  come,  and,  by  its 
presence,  explain  the  meaning  and  reason  of  the  shadow* 
Tor  the  Jews  being,  as  the  apostle  says,  in  bondage  under 
the  elements  of  the  world^,  were  as  men  shut  up  in 
prison,  with  their  faces  kept  turned  from  the  light, 
towards  the  whited  wall  of  ceremonies  :  on  which  indeed 
they  saw  many  .shadows  ;  but  the  body  or  opposite  sub 
stance  at  their  backs,  to  which  they  could  not  turn,  they 
saw  not.  And  in  this  state,  says  the  same  apostle,  they 
were  kept  shut  up  unto  thejaiih,  which  should  afterwards 
he.  revealed^.  Till  that  time,  therefore,  it  appears  that 
the  body  of  the  Jews  had  no  knowledge  oi  this  faith  ; 
one  of  tire  essential  articles  of  which  is  life  everlasting. 
This  we  must  needs  have  concluded,  even  though  lie  had 
1  Sfiiil  that  till  that  time  they  we.re  in  bondage  under  the 
r/r  .  ihc  we.  id.  A  proj>er  character  truly  of  a 

|>coplo  iM-nuaiiitC'd  with  the  revealed  doctrine  of  life  and 


]<ut,  as  the  epistk  to  the  Hebrews,  is  so  much  insisted 
on  bv  mv  adversaries,  I  shall,  in  the  last  place,  produce 
a  text  <;r  two  from  it,  sufficient  alone  to  determine  the 

.  it  rove-rsy  between  us;  and  to  justify  what  I  said  ot  it 
Sn  the  Divine  Legation,  tiuit  in  this  cpitftc  there  are 
•more,  express  declarations  that  life  and  immortality  wan 
iwt  taught  by  mr  known  'under  V/?c  L<iw,  than  in  all  the 
Wfier  foW&  of  (lie  New  le*!  annul.  For  which  indeed 

->ry  good  "reason  may  he  given  ;  as  it  was  addressed 
"solely  k>  the  .Afrr.v  ;  amongst  whom  tliis  fatal  prejudice, 
"aj'nture  state  was  taught  by  the  Law,  was  then,  and 

um.  vii.  6.      t  ^°1-  "-  11*       +  Ga*-  iv-  3-  '      §  Ga]>  !"'  23' 

lias 


Postscript.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.    333 

has  continued  ever  since,  to  be  the  strongest  impediment 
to  their  conversion.  But  to  come  to  the  point  The 
inspired  writer,  in  the  second  chapter  and  second  verse, 
hath  these  remarkable  words,  For  if  the  word  spoken  by 
angels  was  stedfast,  and  every  twjnsgtressidtl  find  dhobc- 
d'tence  received  a  just  recompenceoj  reward;  how  tkyUwc 
escape,  &c.  By  the  word  spoken  by  angels  every  one 
.knows  is  meant  the  Law  delivered  to  Moses  by  them  for 
his  people :  so  that  here  is  an  express  declaration, 

1.  That  the  sanctions  of  this  Law  were  of  a  temporal 
kind.     He  then   goes  on,  verse  the  fifth,  For  unto  the 
angels  hath  he  not  put  in  subjection  the  world  to  come, 
whereof  we  speak.     And  this  is  as  express  a  declaration, 

2.  That  the  Law  taught  no  future  state.     Thus  far  then 
we  are  got.     Let  us  next  attend  to  the  fourteenth  and 
fifteenth  verses ;  he  [Christ]  also  himself  likewise  took 
part  of  the  same  [flesh  and  blood  \\that  through  death 
he  might  destroy  him  that  had  the  power  of  death,  that 
is,  the    devil',   and  deliver  them  who  through  fear  of 
death  were  all  their  lifetime  subject  to  bondage.     The 
devil  is   here  said  to  have  the  power  of  death,  as  he 
brought  it  in  by  the  delusion  of  the  Jirst  man ;  therefore, 
before  death  can  be  abolished,  he  must  be  destroyed. 
J3ut  his   destruction  is    the   work   of  the  second  man. 
Till  then,  we  infer  from  hence,  that  death  reigned  under 
the  devil.     But  this  is  not  all ;  we  are  expressly  told, 
that  the  Jews,  all  their  lifetime,  were  through  fear  of 
death  subject  to  bondage.     Which  certainly  can  imply 
no  other  than,  3.  That  thei/  had  no  future  state  to  secure 
them  from  this  fear.    See  here  then,  for  a  conclusion,  the 
principle  of  the  Divine  Legation  justified  on  the  plainest 
and  most  consequential  reasoning  of  the  holy  apostle. 

But  now,  say  these  men,  if  the  early  Jews  had  nq 
•knowledge  of  a  future  state,  the  chosen  people  of  God 
were  in  a  much  worse  condition  than  the  Gentiles,  who 
all  had  it. — To  this  purpose  let  us  hear  our  anony 
mous  Examiner,  who  has  not  only  spoken  the  full  sense 
of  his  party,  but  has  urged  it  too  with  a  candour  peculiar 
to  'himself. 

'  You  consider  (says  he)  the  ignorance  of  the  Jews 
"  ats  to  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state,  as  one  of  tlte  most 
"  momentous  truths  that  religion  has  to  boast  of.  I,  on 

"the 


334  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Parti. 

"  the  other  hand,  look  upon  it  as  a  DISGRACE  to  Reve- 
"  1'uion  ;  us,  by  the  very  act  of  God  himself,  it  shuts  out 
"  his  own  chosen  people,  for  many  ages,  from  that  single 
*'  point  of  knowledge,  which  could  be  the  foundation  of 
"  a  reasonable  worship;  while  by  the  directions  of  his  pro- 
"  vidence,  nil  the  uoild  heeidea  were  permitted  to  have 
"  the  benefit  of  it."  pp.  131,  132. 

He  says,  He  looks  upat  -nc,  jut  arc  state  amongst  the 
Je\\  s  as  //  disgrace  to  Rc'Citatkn.  Why  so?  Because  by 
the  very  act  of  God  himwlj  It  shut  out  his  own  chosen 
people,  <MC.  bare  he  has  forgot  what  lie  so  oit  told  his- 
reader,  that  IMuses  taught  not,  nor  had  it  in  his  com 
mission  to  teach,  a  future  state  to  the  Israelites :  other- 
xvise  he  would  have  seen  that  this,  alone,  went  a  great 
\vay  to\vards  shutting  out  the  chosen  people.  And  if  they 
were  let  in  at  all,  it  certainly  was  not  by  this  prophet  of 
God.  Consequently,  if  the  holding,  that  God  shut  them 
out,  be  disgraceful  to  Revelation,  this  very  orthodox 
gentleman,  we  see,  is  got  as  deep  in  the  mire  as  the 
Author  of  the  Divine  Legation.  In  truth,  I  pity  the 
poor  man,  who  thus,  at  every  step,  brings  himself  into 
these  distresses:  and  all,  from  a  false  modesty.  He  was 
ashamed  of  the  absurdity  of  his  party,  in  holding  that 
Closes  taught,  or  ought  to  have  taught,  a  future  slate ; 
and  therefore,  at  this  turn,  leaves  them  in  the  lurch,  and 
takes  up  the  better  principle  of  his  adversary,  that  J\Ioses 
had  no  commission  to  teach  it :  for  he  must  have  been 
dull  indeed  not  to  have  collected  that  this  was  his  adver 
sary's  principle,  after  he  had  seen  him  write  a  book  to 
prove  \\}%k  Moses  did  not  teach  it. — And  be  not  offended, 
good  Sir,  that  I  call  this  a  false  modesty ;  for  what  is  it 
else,  to  he  shocked  with  one  absurdity  in  your  party,  and 
yet  to  defend  all  the  rest?  Whose  only  plausible  sup 
port,  too,  happens  to  be  in  that  one  which  you  reject, 
Indeed,  indeed,  my  kind  friend, 

—Pudor  te  mains  urget, 

Insanos  qui  inter  vcrcare  insanus  haberi. 

— But  the  cause,  though  not  the  Advocate,  demands  a 
serious  confutation.  And  as  the  only  support  of  it, 
against  the  argument  of  the  Divine  Legation,  |ies  in 
these  calumnious  appeals  to  vulgar  prejudices;  which 

our 


Postscript.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.    335 

our  Anonymous,  in  the  passage  above,  has  inforced  with 
his  heartiest  malice;  I  will  here,  once  for  all,  examine, 
their  pretensions  :  and  so  as  they  shall  never  henceforward 
be  considered,  in  the  learned  world  at  least,  as  any  other 
than  mere  vulgar  prejudices. 

To  begin  then  with  the  subject  of  thejlrst  proposition, 
That  God  shut  out  the  Israeites  from  the  knowledge  of 
a  future  state  ;  which  (in  the  case  given)  is  throwing  that 
upon  God  for  which  man  only  is  accountable.  The 
Israelites  were  indeed  shut  out ;  yet,  not  as  he  dreams, 
by  the  very  act  of  God  himself',  but,  if  he  will  have  the 
truth  who  never  seeks  it  as  he  ought,  by  the -very  act  of 
their  forefather,  Adam.  It  was  the  -first  man  who  shut 
them  out :  and  the  door  of  Paradise  was  never  opened 
again  till  the  coming  of  the  second  man,  the  Lord  from 
Heaven.  But  this,  I  own,  is  answering  him  in  a  strange 
language ;  the  language  of  Scripture.  A  language  his 
systems  will  never  enable  him  to  understand. — But  more 
of  this  secret,  for  such,  I  find,  it  is  to  our  Examiner,  in 
my  next  volume. 

But,  to  shew  what  infinite  loss  they  sustained  in  this 
exclusion,  he  goes  on,  and  says,  that  a  future  state  is  the 
single  point  of  knowledge  which  can  be  the  foundation  of  a 
reasonable  worship.  Here,  doctors  differ.  St.  PAUL  places 
the  foundation  of  a  reasonable  worship  in  another  thing. 
He  saith,  that  HE  THAT  COMETH  TO  GOD  MUST  BELIEVE 

THAT  HE  IS,  AND  THAT  HE  IS  A  REWARDER.  OF  THEM 

THAT  DILIGENTLY  SEEK  HIM  *.  Whatis  man's  purpose 
in  coming  to  God  ?  Why,  certainly,  to  worship  him.  And 
what  doth  the  apostle  tell  us  is  the  true,  ihc  reasonable 
foundation  of  this  worship  ?  Why,  to  believe  that  he  is, 
and  that  he  is  a  rewarder  of  them  that  seek  him.  What 
becomes  then  of  our  Examuiers  only  foundation  of  a 
reasonable  worship  ?  The  apostle,  we  see,  places  it  in 
the  nature,  and  not  (as  our  Ex&mbter)  in  the  inessential 
circumstances,  of  reward :  consequently  a  reward  given 
here,  was  as  true  a  foundation  of  reasonable  worship  to 
the  early  Jews,  living  under  an  extraordinary  providence, 
as  a  reward  given  hereafter  is  to  us  Christians,  living 
under  an  ordinary  one  :  and  consequently  our  Examiner 
must  have  been  mistaken,  when  he  made  a  FUTURE 

*  Jleb.xi.ti.  - 
^     - '  STATE 


336  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

STATE  the  single  pomt  of  knowledge  which  can  be  tli$ 
foundation  of  a  reasonable  worship. — But  does  not 
common  sense  say  the  same  thing? 

For,  to  come  a  little  closer  to  this  formidable  man, 
now  I  have  got  an  apostle  on  my  side ;  I  will  a  'da  take 
,to  demonstrate  (how  much  soever  he  dislikes  the  word) 
that  a  i-UTURE  STATE  is  so  far  i.om  I -L-iiur  the  only 
foundation  of  a  reasonable  wo;  ship,  that,  while  God  z> 
Jjelieredthe  rewardcr  of  them  that  diligent ///  seek  him 
,(and  that  is  the  case  of  a  people  under  an  extraordinary 
•providence)  --the  ignorance  <>/  a  future  stale  neither  affects 
pitty  nor  morality,  the  two  things  which  constitute  a 
reasonable  worsjiip,  and  perfect  mankind  in  virtue. 

Not  piety,  because  tliat  (in  the  case  given)  Depends 
solely  on  the  belief  tliat  God  is. 

Not  morality,  because  that   depends  solely  on   the 
knowledge  of  what  God  commands. 

And  this,  which  right  reason  teaches,  the  Law  of 
Moses  has  promulgcd.  We.  are  commanded  ;to  lore  God 
for  his  sake,  that  is,  for  the  excellence  of  his  nature,  the 
anost  lovely  of  all  objects.  -We  are  commanded  to  lore 
our  neighbour ;  and  the  prescribed  measure,  as  our 
$dves,  points  to  the  equity  of  the  command  ;  for,  being 
all  .equal  by  nature,  we  should  have  but  one  rule  of 
Acting,  for  ourselves  and  others.  This  is  resolvable  into 
the  natural  relations  of  things ;  and  those  relations  are 
the  declarations  of  God's  will,  the  pnly  true  foundation 
of  morality ;  and,  as  such,  perpetually  inforced  by  the 
JLaw  qf  Moses.  Thus  firmly  established  are  the  duties 
of  the  first  and  second  table.  Now,  on  the  lore  of  Gocl 
and  of  our  neighbour  Jtang  all  the  law  and  the  prophets. 
That  these  therefore  should  not  be  able  at  the  same  time 
to  support  a  reasonable,  worship,  when,  to  all  this  Mosaic 
enforcement  of  the  belief  that  God  is,  it  is  added,  that  he 
is  an  exact  rewcu'der  of  them  that  diligently  seek  him, 
.would  be  a  very  hard  case  indeed ;  especially  if  we  con 
sider,  that,  to  our  corrupt  .nature,  it  is  not  the  immea- 
purable  reward  at  distance,  but  that  which  is  present,  and 
understood  by  us,  that  most  forcibly  attracts  us.  And 
this  it  was,  which  the  Law  of  Moses  held  out. 

In    a  word   then,    since    pure   virtue,    under  wliich 
term  I  comprise  piety  .and  morality,  consists  in  acting 

agreeably 


Postscript.]   OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.   337 

agreeably  to  those  relations  in  which  \ve  stand  to  all 
beings  whatsoever  ;  is  it  possible  there  can  be  any  more 
forcible  inducement  to  our  reasonable  culture  for  the  prac 
tice  of  it,  than  that  which  is  proposed  by  the  Law  of 
Moses,  namely,  that  God  commands  it  out  of  our  love 
and  fear  and  duty  towards  him  ?  Or  any  more  forcible 
inducement  to  our  corrupt  nature,  than  that  every  work 
shall  receive  its  full  recompence  of  reward,  through  the 
administration  of  an  extraordinary  providence  ?  How 
then  is  it  possible  that  a  long,  or  short  duration,  the 
rewards  of  this,  or  of  another  life,  should  in  the  least 
essentially  affect  the  purity,  or  integrity  of  human  virtue, 
so  taught  and  recommended ;  that  is,  a  reasonable  wor 
ship,  in  the  spirit  of  piety,  and  truth  of  morality  ? 

To  suppose  that  virtue  cannot  be  pure  and  perfect  but 
when  forced  upon  men  by  the  immensity  of  punishment, 
is  having  no  better  an  idea  of  it  than  the  Pagan  slave  in 
the  Poet, 

Sum  bonus  acfrugi:  renuit  negitatque  Sabellus. 

Indeed,  in  the  ordinary  distribution  of  things,  where  the 
rewards  and  punishments  of  religion  lie  at  distance, 
I  believe  nothing  less  than  the  promises  and  terrors  of 
the  Christian  would  be,  generally,  sufficient  to  support 
the  practice  it  enjoins.  But  here  too,  it  is  still  the  love 
and  fear  of  God,  not  of  reward  and  punishment,  that  are 
held  out  to  us,  to  perfect  and  sublime  our  virtue ;  though 
the  others  likewise  be  laid  before  us  to  raise  and 
quicken  it. 

But  here,  let  me  not  be  again  misunderstood,  as  I  have 
been  once  already,  by  this  super-subtile  Examiner.  I 
deny  indeed  that  the  want  of  a  future  state  in  the  Jewish 
religion,  under  an  extraordinary  providence,  could  at  all 
affect  the  truth  and  purity  of  human  virtue,  as  there 
founded  and  enforced :  yet,  at  the  same  time,  I  am  very 
far  from  denying  but  that  other  things  did  hinder  that 
religion  from  being  perfect.  Nay,  in  my  Address  to  the 
Jews,  prefixed  to  the  second  *  volume  of  The  Divine 
Legation,  I  have  shewn  what  these  things  were:  as, 
first,  the  whole  turn  of  their  ritual  law  :  and,  secondly, 

*  See  vol.  iv.  p.  13.  of  this  Edit, 
VOL.  XL  Z  the 


338  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

the  want  of  a  future  state  umkr  the  ordinary  and  common 
providence  of  mankind.  For  I  am  there  applying,  to 
these  mistaken  people,  a  view  of  Moses's  religion  as  it 
appears  under  their  present  condition,  in  order  to  con 
vince  them  of  the  necessity  of  having  its  imperfection 
supplied  by  the  religion  of  Jems;  in  which,  I  suppose, 
all  Christians  are  agreed.  At  least,  as  many  as  are  out 
of  the  thick  darkness  of  controversy  will  see  these  to  be 
very  different  and  distinct  positions.  The  one  saying, 
that  their  virtue  might  be  pure  and  perfect,  during  the 
times  of  an  extraordinary  providence,  for  any  thing  that 
the  ignorance  of  a  future  state  could  affect  to  the  con 
trary.  The  other,  that  a  religion  without  a  future  state, 
on  the  supposition  of  its  being  to  serve J or  all  times,  must 
be  very  imperfect. 

I  might  now  expect,  after  so  full  a  confutation  of  this 
erroneous  opinion,  concerning  the  foundation  of  a  reason 
able  worship,  that  our  Examiner  should  blush  for  his 
rashness  in  asserting,  that  the  ignorance  of  the  Jews 
concerning  a  future  state  is  a  DISGRACE  to  Revelation. 
An  expression,  which,  were  there  but  a  chance  of  his 
being  wrong,  a  sober  divine  would  carefully  have  avoided ; 
as  altogether  unsuitable  to  that  reverence  we  owe  to  God, 
while  measuring  his  tremendous  providence  by  our 
scanty  and  uncertain  ideas  of  fit  and  right.  I  might 
say,  indeed,  that  the  Jews  ignorance  of  a  future  state 
was  a  truth  of  so  high  importance,  that,  from  thence, 
could  be  demonstrated  the  divinity  of  their  dispensation ; 
and,  I  presume,  without  offence  to  any  sober  man; 
because,  if  I  were  mistaken,  no  injury  was  done  to  Re 
velation  ;  I  left  it  whole  and  entire,  just  as  I  took  it  up. 
But  should  the  Examiner  be  mistaken,  his  calling  this 
ignorance  a  DISGRACE  TO  REVELATION  would  be 
affording  such  an  handle  to  the  enemies  of  religion  to 
blaspheme,  as  he  should  tremble  to  think  of. 

But,  if  I  know  him  well,  he  is  not  a  writer  of  retrac 
tations.  He  has  another  reason  for  calling  it  a  disgrace 
to  Revelation.  For,  //  shuts  up  (he  says)-  God's  own 
chosen  people  from  a  fut  ure  state,  while  by  the  directions 
of  his  providence  all  the  world  besides  were  permitted  to 
have  the  benefit  of  it.  And  now,  good  people,  you  have 

it 


Postscript]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.   339 

it  all :  and  if  this  will  not  move  you,  why — The  Author 
of  The  Divine  Legation,  for  anything  I  see,  may  go  on. 

This  second  proposition  we  see  is,  that  (in  the  case 
given)  "  all  the  Pagan  world  were  by  the  divine  Provi- 
"  dence  permitted  to  enjoy  a  bexejit  which  was  denied  to 
".the  Jews."  Examining  the  predicate  of  this  propo 
sition,  we  shall  first  consider  the  PERMISSION,  and  tiien 
the  BENEFIT. 

All  the  world  besides,  says  he,  were  permitted. — By 
what  instrument  ?    By  the  use  of  their  reason. — And  had 
not  the  Jews  the  use  of  theirs  ?     Not  the  free  use :  for 
their  prophet  delivering  to  them,  from  God,   a  new  law 
and  religion,  in  which  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  was 
not  found,  this  would  naturally  lead   them  to  conclude 
against  it. — What,   in  defiance  of  all  the  deductions  of 
reason,  which,  from    God's  demonstrable   attributes    of 
goodness  and  justice,  made  the  Pagan  world  conclude, 
that,  as  moral  good  and  evil  had  not  their  retribution  here, 
they  would  have  it  hereafter  ?  Yes  indeed,  so  we  find  it 
was. — Strange!  that  this  Moses  should  have  such   an 
influence  over  a  people's  understanding  !     Why,  if  you 
will  have  it,  he  promised  that  good  and  evil  should  have 
their  retribution  here. — Aye,  now  the  secret  is  out.  Well, 
indeed,  might  this  shut  them  up  from  looking  further ; 
especially  if  (as  y©u  pretend  to  believe)  he  not  only  pro 
mised,  but  performed,  likewise.     See  then  to  what  this 
PERMISSION  amounts,  so  invidiously  urged,  not  against 
me,  for   that  is  nothing,   but  against  the  Scriptures  of 
God.     Just  to  thus  much,  "  That  all  the  world  besides 
"  were  permitted  to  find  out,  by  reason,  what  his  own 
"  chosen  people  were  taught,  by  the  practical  demon- 
"  station  of  an  extraordinary  providence-,  namely,  that 
"  God  would  act  with  justice   and  goodness  towards 
"  man." 

Come  we  now  to  the  benefit.  The  benefit  of  the  doc 
trine  of  a  future  state  is  twofold.  To  society  as  such, 
as  it  is  a  curb  to  vice  by  supporting  the  belief  of  a  Pro 
vidence,  under  the  unequal  distribution  of  things  :  and 
to  religion  as  such,  as  it  is  an  incentive  to  virtue,  by 
shewing  the  rate  set  upon  it.  The  doctrine  of  a  future 
state,  in  the  Pagan  world,  afforded  indeed  that  benefit  to 

i  2  society* 


340  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I. 

society :  but  then,  that  benefit  the  Jewish  state  did  not 
want,  as  being  under  an  equal  distribution  of  things. 
Benefit  to  religion,  their  doctrine  of  a  future  state 
afforded  none.  It  was  overrun  with  superstitions ;  and 
generally  gave  the  rewards  of  another  life,  not  to  moral 
but  to  ritual  observances.  And  when  not  so,  as  in  the 
open  teaching  of  the  mysteries,  yet  even  there  the  se 
verest  punishments  in  the  Pagan  hell  were  allotted  to  the 
Atheists,  or  the  rejectors  of  the  vulgar  Polytht&m ; 
which,  not  only  utterly  depraved  religion,  but  riveted 
men  in  its  depravity.  So  that,  in  the  sense  of  our 
Examiner  (\\  ho  is  here  speaking  of  the  benefit  of  a  future 
state  to  religion,  as  such},  this  future  state  of  all  the 
world  besides  was  indeed  no  benefit  at  all.  But  he  will 
say,  I  have  shewn,  that  the  efoifffl*  of  the  mysteries 
removed  these  errors.  It  is  true,  I  have.  But,  at  the 
same  time,  likewise,  that  these  were  revealed  to  very 
few.  And,  to  set  matters  even,  has  not  he  shewn  from 
'Bishop  Bull,  (p.  123)  that  the  hidden  mysteries  of  the 
Law  were  opened  to  fit  hearers,  wherever  they  were 
found?  though,  from  the  total  silence  of  a  future  state, 
in  the  old  Jewish  history,  I  suspect,  these  were  still  fewer. 
Which  opinion  I  will  be  ready  to  retract,  when  he  shall 
shew  me,  in  the  Jewish  antiquities,  as  plain  intimations 
of  a  future  state,  amongst  the  hidden  mysteries  of  the 
Law,  as  I  have  shewn  him  in  the  Grecian,  of  the  doctrine 
of  the  Unity  >  and  the  detection  of  vulgar  Polytheism 
amongst  the  mysteries  of  Paganism.  But  had  a  future 
state  afforded  the  Pagans  never  so  much  benefit  to 
religion  as  such :  yet  neither  this  did  the  Jewish  people 
want,  and  for  the  same  reason  as  above,  because  they 
were  under  an  extraordinary  providence.  And  now  let 
us  see  to  what  the  BENEFIT  amounts. 

The  Pagans  had  a  future  state  to  support  their  so 
ciety  and  religion. 

But  then,  so  circumstanced,  that  it  was  of  service  to 
society  only,  although  both  wanted  it. 

The  Jews  had  no  future  state  to  support  their  society 
and  religion. 

But  then,  neither  wanted  it, 
3 


Postscript]   OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.    341 

And  now,  I  pray  you,  on  which  side  lies  the  balance 
of  the  benefit?  We  commonly  hear  it  said,  that  seeing 
is  believing :  but  I  suspect  our  Examiner  has  been  im 
posed  on  by  a  very  different  aphorism,  as  absurd  in  the 
thought  as  the  other  is  in  the  expression,  that  believing  is 
having,  a  principle  not  unworthy  of  his  school.  Else  how 
comes  he  to  place  so  great  a  benefit  in  the  point  in  ques 
tion,  if  he  did  not  suppose  that  the  Jews  want  of  the 
doctrine  deprived  them  of  the  thing  ? 

But  have  I  not  been  reckoning  all  this  time  without  my 
host,  while  I  argued  against  these  silly  prejudices,  upon 
the  confession  of  an  extraordinary  providence?  For, 
disputing  here  with  Christian  men,  I  have  supposed  that 
they  believed  such  a  dispensation.  And  prudent  was  it 
in  rne  so  to  do.  For  had  I  been  called  upon  to  prove 
my  supposition,  I  do  not  know  whether  what  I  could  say 
would  have  satisfied  the  judicious  reader,  who  had 
observed  that  all  the  arguments  they  use  against  me 
receive  the  little  force  they  have  on  a  contrary  supposi 
tion.  And  even  this  private  Letter-writer,  one  of  the 
most  candid  of  his  kind,  had  still  a  reason  in  reserve,  to 
prove  why  the  promise  of  life,  in  his  favourite  text  of 
Leviticus,  must  needs  mean  eternal  life,  and  not  temporal 
only,  which  looks  very  much  that  way;  it  is,  because  the 
best  men  (he  says)  were  often  cut  off  in  the  midst  of  their 
days,  and  frequently  suffered  greater  adversities  than 
the  most  profligate  sinners.  Who  now  that  had  even  a 
rnind  to  let  us  see  he  believed  nothing  of  the  matter, 
could  have  expressed  his  meaning  in  stronger  or  more 
significant  terms  ?  I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess  I  read 
my  Bible  ;  and  believed  what  it  told  me  of  this  extraor 
dinary  providence ;  and,  in  the  simplicity  of  my  heart, 
would  needs  try  if  I  could  make  the  Deist  believe  too. 
I  found  it  was  this  that  most  revolted  him  :  and  therefore 
undertook  to  prove,  from  the  very  constitution  of  their 
economy,  that  the  representation  must  needs  be  true,  and 
so,  while  I  was  removing  his  objections  to  Revelation, 
give  him  a  demonstration  of  its  truth.  In  the  mean 
time,  I  little  suspected  that  a  set  of  men,  who  call 
themselves  Believers,  would,  for  the  sake  only  of  com 
bating  the  medium  of  my  demonstration,  ever  venture  to 

z  3  call 


342  REMARKS,  &c.  [Part  I. 

call  in  question  that  very  fact  for  which  I  was  contending 
with  their  adversaries  ;  and  in  a  way  thur  adversaries 
(except  it  were  perhaps  Splnosa  and  his  uv.m  Totand]  bad 
never  attempted,  namely,  by  a  virtual  denial  oi  the  repre 
sentation'.  If  this  was  to  be  contested  me,  I  could  have 
wished,  for  thy  honour  of  Revelation,  it  had  bren  done 
by  the  professed  enemies  of  it:  and  then  i  could  have 
exposed  their  prevarication  without  much  re-ret.  As  ft 
is,  I  rather  chuse  to  draw  a  veil  over  this  lyirn.thj  <;f  iti-e. 
jltsh\  AND  WAIT  FOR  the  renewal  of  a  rig/a  spirit 
within  them. 


END    OF    THE   FIRST 


REMARKS 

ON 

SEVERAL  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS; 

IN    ANSWER    TO    THE 
REV.  DRS.  STEBBING  &  SYKES: 

Serving  to  explain  and  justify  the  two  Dissertations  in 
«  THE  DIVINE  LEGATION," 

CONCERNING 
THE  COMMAND  TO  ABRAHAM  TO  OFFER  UP  HIS  SON, 

AND 

THE  NATURE  OF  THE  JEWISH  THEOCRACY; 
Objected  to  by  those  Learned  Writers. 


.     .     _     .     Arcades  arnbo, 
Et  cantare  pares,  et  BESPOXDERE  paralL        Vine, 


PART  II.  and  Last. 


Quid  imrnerentes  hospites  vexas,  Canis, 

Ignavus  adversuin  Lupos  ? 
Nam,  qualis  aut  Molossus,  aut  fulvus  Lacon, 

AMIGA  vis  PASTORIEUS, 
Again  per  altas  aure  sublata  nives, 

Quascunque  prascedet  Fera. 
Tu  quum  timenda  voce  complcsti  K  emus, 

Projectum  odoraris  CJBUM.  If  or. 


PREFACE 


TO 


REMARKS  ON  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS ; 
PART    IT. 


THE  two  SUBJECTS  here  debated  will  deserve  the 
attention  of  every  serious  Believer ;  especially,  those  of 
my  own  Order.  For  the  sake  of  such,  I  shall  just 
hazard  a  few  observations,  which  I  thought  rather  too 
good  to  be  thrown  away  upon  those  whom  the  following 
sheets  more  immediately  concerned. 

I.  The  Reader  finds  here,  what  the  learned  Dr.  Steb- 
b'mg  has  been  able  to  object  to  my  interpretation  of  the 
COMMAND  TO  ABRAHAM:  Which,  I  presume,  when 
fairly  attended  to,  will  be  no  light  confirmation  of  its 
truth.  But,  as  I  have  no  notions  to  advance,  not  founded 
in  a  sincere  desire  to  demonstrate  the  divinity  of  our 
holy  religion,  I  would  by  no  means  take  the  advantage 
of  a  weak  Adversary,  to  recommend  them  to  the  public 
acceptance.  1  hold  it  not  honest,  therefore,  to  conceal 
an  objection  to  my  interpretation,  by  far  more  plausible 
than  any  that  zealous  Gentleman  has  urged  against  it ; 
which  is  this,  "  That  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  a 
"  circumstance  of  so  much  importance  to  Revelation, 
11  as  the  removing  one  of  the  strongest  infidel  objections 
"  against  its  truth,  and  proving  a  real  connexion  between 
"  the  two  dispensations  of  it,  should  never  be.  clearly 
u  explained  and  insisted  on  by  the  Writers  of  the  New 
1  Testament,  though  the  Historian  of  the  Old  might 
"  have  had  sufficient  reasons  for  concealing  it."  To 
which  I  beg  leave  to  reply,  that  it  is  very  certain, 
that  many  truths  of  great  importance,  for  the  support  of 
religion  against  infidelity,  were  taught  by  Jems  to  his 
•disciples  (amongst  which,  I  reckop  this  interpretation  to 


346  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

be  one)  which  never  came  down,  by  their  conveyance,  to 
the  church.  But  being,  by  the  assistance  of  God's  Holy 
Spirit,  discoverable  by  those  who  devote  themselves  to 
the  study  of  the  Scriptures  with  a  pure  mind,  have,  for 
the  wise  ends  of  Providence,  inscrutable  to  us,  been  left 
for  the  industry  of  man  to  find  out,  that,  as  occasion 
required,  every  age  might  supply  new  evidence  of  God's 
truth,  to  put  to  silence  the  ignorance  of  foolish  men:  and 
that,  in  proportion  as  the  power  of  darkness  thickened, 
so  might  the  splendour  of  the  Gospel  light  ;  that  light 
ithich  was  ordained,  at  last,  entirely  to  disperse  it.  In 
support  of  what  is  here  said,  I  beg  the  reader  to  reflect 
on  what  is  told  us  by  the  Evangelist,  of  the  conversation 
between  Jesus  (after  his  resurrection)  and  the  two  dis 
ciples  journeying  to  Emmaus  ;  where  their  Master  says 
unto  them,  O  fools,  and  slow  of  heart  to  believe  all 
that  the  prophets  have  spoken  !  Ought  not  Christ  to 
have  suffered  these  things,  and  to  enter  into  his  glory  ? 
And  beginning  at  Moses,  ami  all  the  prophet  s>  he  e,v- 
pounded  unto  them  t/ie  things  concerning  himself*.  Now 
who  can  doubt  but  that  many  things  were  here  revealed, 
which  would  have  greatly  contributed  to  the  demonstra* 
tiori  of  the  Gospel  truth  ?  Yet  hath  it  pleased  Provi 
dence  that  this  discourse  should  never  be  recorded.  But 
that  the  apostles  used,  and  made  a  good  use  too,  of 
those  instructions,  we  have  the  plainest  evidence  from 
their  amazing  success  in  the  conversion  of  the  world,  by 
this  application  of  the  writings  of  Moses  and  the  prophets. 
And  if  I  be  not  greatly  deceived,  amongst  truths  intbrceel 
on  those  occasions,  that,  which  I  presume  to  have  dis 
covered  in  the  Command  to  Abraham,  was  not  forgotten. 
Let  the  unprejudiced  reader  judge.  St.  Paul,  making 
his  apology  before  king  Agrippa,  recapitulates  his  defence 
in  these  words  :  Having  therefore  obtained  help  of  God., 
I  continue,  unto  this  day  witnessing  both  to  small  and 
great,  saying  none  other  things  than  those  which  the 
"prophets,  and  MOSES,  DID  SAY  SHOULD  COME:  that 
Christ  should  wj/cr,  and  that  he  should  be  the  first  that 
should  rise  Jrom  the  dead-\.  The  Greek  is  rather 
stronger,  in  predicating  this  circumstance  of  Moses  —  2i> 
•si  o  &rpc(vTy,i  iXaAtiVxv  AXovJw*  /WcrGai  KAI 


*  St,  Luke  xxiv.  26',  27.  t  Acts  xxvi.  22,  23. 

Now 


Pref.]       OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.         347 

Now  where,  let  me  ask,  in  all  his  writings,  except  in  the 
Command  to  Abraham,  is  there  the  least  trace  of  any 
such  circumstance,  as  that  Christ  should  suffer,  and  that 
ht  should  bt  the,  first  that  should  rise  from  the  dead? 
Or  in  that  command  either,  if  not  understood  according 
to  our  interpretation  ? 

But  further,  as  the  apostles  did  not  convey  several 
illustrious  truths  taught  them  by  their  Master  to  the 
churches  which  they  founded :  so  neither  (and  doubtless 
for  the  same  wise  ends  of  Providence)  did  the  churches 
convey  down  to  posterity  several  truths  revealed  to  them 
by  the  apostles.  An  instance  of  which  we  have  in  St. 
Paul's  second  Epistle  to  the  Thessalonians,\v\ieve,  speak 
ing  of  Antichrist,  or  the  Man  of  Sin,  he  reminds  the 
church  of  what  it  was  he  told  them  yet  let  or  hindered 
his  coming — Remember  ye  not,  that,  'when  I  was  yet 
with  you,  I  told  you  these  things  ?  And  now  you  know, 
'what  mthholdeth  that  he  might  be  revealed  in  his  time. 
But  the  knowledge  of  this  let  or  hindrance  the  Church  of 
God  hath  long  lost.  And  yet  it  is  a  matter  of  very  high 
concernment.  I .  have  ever  thought,  the  prophecies  re 
lating  to  Antichrist,  interspersed  up  and  down  the  New 
and  Old  Testament,  the  most  convincing  proof  of  the 
truth  of  the  Christian  religion  that  any  moral  matter  is 
capable  of  receiving.  That  a  Roman  power  is  meant, 
is  so  exceeding  evident,  that  it  is  that  point  in  which  all 
parties  are  agreed.  But  to  fix  it  to  the  individual  power 
(a  determination  highly  interesting  both  the  truth  and 
purity  of  religion)  it  must  first  be  known  whether  the 
power  spoken  of  be  civil  or  ecclesiastical.  Protestants, 
in  general,  think  they  see  all  the  marks  of  the  latter. 
The  Catholics,  as  they  are  called,  contend  of  necessity 
for  the  former :  and  they  have  many  great  names  even 
among  us  on  their  side  (by  what  odd  concurrence  of 
circumstances,  may  be  considered  in  another  place). 
This  has  long  embarrasssed  a  question,  on  the  right 
determination  of  which  alone,  I  am  fully  persuaded,  one 
might  rest  the  whole  truth  of  the  Christian  cause.  Now 
the  knowledge  of  what  it  was  that  let  or  hindered  the 
appearance  of  Antichrist,  which  St.  Paul  communicated 
to  the  church  of  Thessalonica,  would  at  once  determine 
the  question.  But  this  is  the  state  in  which  it  hath 

pleased 


34$  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

pleased  Providence  to  place  the  Church  of  Christ :  with 
abundant  evidence  to  support  itself  against  infidelity ; 
yet  so  much  left  to  be  discovered  as  may  rightly  exercise 
the  faith  and  industry  of  all  humble  and  sober  adorers  of 
the  Cross.  Which  however  shews  it  was  not  the  intent  of 
Providence  that  one  of  these  virtues  should  thrive  at  the 
cxpence  of  the  other.  Therefore  when  my  learned 
Adversary*,  in  order,  I  will  believe,  to  advance  Chris 
tian  faith,  would  discourage  Christian  industry,  by  calum 
niating,  and  rendering  suspected,  what  he  is  pleased  to 
call  EXPERIMENTS  in  religion,  it  is,  I  am  afraid,  at  best, 
but  a  zeal  without  knowledge.  Indeed,  if  men  will  come 
to  this  study  with  unwashed  hands ,  that  is,  without  a  due 
reverence  of  the  dignity  of  these  sacred  volumes  ;  or, 
what  is  as  ill  in  the  other  extreme,  with  wipurged  head*, 
that  is,  stuffed  full  of  systems,  or  made  giddy  by  enthu 
siasm,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  expect  the  success  which 
Dr.  S&btirtg  pretends  to  have  observed.  Ikit  then,  let 
him  keep  his  advice  for  those  whom  it  concern;-. 

If.  The  oilier  subject  debated  in  this  pamphlet  is  of 
the  THEOCRACY  of  the  Jczcx.  Having  undertaken  to 
prove  the  divinity  of  the  Mosaic  religion  from  the  actual 
administration  of  an  extraordinary  providence  over  that 
state  in  general,  and  over  private  men  in  particular,  by 
•the  medium  of  the  omission  of  a  future  state  of  rewards 
and  punishments  in  their  economy ;  what  I  had  to  do 
'was  to  shew  from  Scripture,  that  such  a  dispensation  of 
Providence  was  there  represented  to  have  been  admini 
stered.  This  I  did  two  ways,  from  the  nature  of  the 
thing;  and  from  the  express  words  of  Scripture.  Under 
the  "first  head,  I  shewed  f  that,  from  the  nature  of  a 
theocracy,  it  necessarily  followed,  by  as  plain  an  induc 
tion  as  that  protection  follows  obedience  to  the  civil 
magistrate,  that  there  must  be  an  extraordinary  provi 
dence  over  the  state  in  general,  and  over  all  the  members 
of  it  in  particular.  And  that  though  a  theocracy  were 
only  pretended,  yet,  if  the  institutes  of  it  knew  the 
meaning  of  his  own  contrivance,  he  must,  of  course, 
pretend  this  extraordinary  providence  likewise.  In  sup 
port  of  which  last  observation  I  have  shewn  j,  in  the 

*   Dr.  Stebbing. 

Divine  Legation  and  in  this  Pamphlet 

second 


Both  in  The  Divine  Legation  and  in  this  Pamphlet. 


Pref.]      OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.         349 

second  place,  that  such  a  dispensation  of  Providence  is 
actually,  and  in  express  words  of  Scripture,  said  to  be 
administered.  After  tins,  what  has  an  unbeliever  to  do  (for 
it  is  hard  to  think  how  any  other  should  have  any  thing  to  do 
in  it)  who  would  invalidate  this  representation,  but  either 
to  deny  that  the  Jewish  form  of  government  was  theo- 
cratical,  and,  by  that  means,  endeavour  to  deprive  me  of 
the  jirst  of  my  proofs,  from  the  nature  of  the  thing :  or 
to  allow  this  pretended  theocracy,  yet  shew  from  fact,  by 
Scripture  history,  that  such  a  dispensation  of  Providence 
was  not  administered ;  which  would  subvert  both  rny 
proofs.  And  this  sure  none  but  an  unbeliever  could 
deliberately  do,  because  it  argues  Moses  of  imposture* 
For  if  an  extraordinary  providence  to  the  state  and  to 
particulars  necessarily  follows  a  theocracy,  and  yet  such 
a  providence  was  not  actually  administered,  then  this 
theocracy  was  not  real,  but  pretended  only.  Now 
Dr.  Sykes  has  undertaken  to  prove  that  the  extraordinary 
dispensation  of  Providence  did  not  extend  to  particulars, 
In  this  I  blame  him  not.  Every  man  must  think  for 
himself;  and  the  objection  is  fairly  urged.  But  what 
creates  my  wonder  is,  that  when,  contrary  to  common 
sense  and  common  Scripture,  he  pretends  to  admit  an 
extraordinary  providence  to  the  state  in  consequence  of 
a  theocracy,  while  he  opposes  that  to  particulars,  he 
should  yet  think  to  pass  upon  his  reader  for  an  advocate 
of  the  Bible.  If  he  sees  the-  thing  in  the  light  here 
stated,  what  an  opinion  must  he  have  of  the  Public ! 
If  he  sees  it  not,  what  an  opinion  must  the  Public  have 
of  him!  But  let  him  debate  this  point  with  himself  at 
leisure.  All  the  advantage  I  have  taken  of  his  bad 

o 

reasoning,  is  not  to  discover,  nor  consequently  to  dis 
credit,  his  opinions  ;  but  merely  to  support  my  own. 

III.  In  the  last  place,  it  may  be  permitted  me  to 
observe,  that  these  two  learned  Doctors,  who  imagine, 
that  all  the  time  they  have  been  writing  against  me,  they 
were  opposing  the  conclusion  of  The  Divine  Legation, 
have,  indeed,  allowed  all  I  wanted  to  make  my  argument 
demonstrative  :  Dr.  Stebbing,  by  owning  that  Moses  did 
not  teach,  nor  had  it  in  commission  to  teach,  a  future 
state  of  rewards  and  punishments ;  and  Dr.  Sykes, 
by  owning  that  an  extraordinary  providence  teas 

administered 


350  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL  [Pref. 

administered  over  the  Jewish  state  and  people  in  general 
If  it  be  asked,  then,  why  I  would  clog  my  argument,  by 
insisting  on  the  Jewish  peoples  ignorance  in  general  of  a 
future  state,  and  the  administration  of  an  extraordinary 
providence  to  particulars  ;  I  reply,  it  was  on  the  same 
principle  that  Moses  closed  his  institution  with  a  theo 
cracy.  He  did  it  in  obedience  to  the  Divine  command ; 
and  I,  out  of  rny  observance  to  truth.  But  had  he  been 
of  that  species  of  lawgivers  in  which  Dr.  Sykcs  seems  to 
rank  him,  I  conclude  he  would  not  have  unnecessarily 
instituted  a  form  of  government  that  must,  at  every  step, 
have  detected  his  imposture.  And  had  I  wrote  to 
advance  my  own  notions,  the  equitable  reader  will  con 
clude  I  should  never  have  given  so  many  needless  provo 
cations  to  this  testy  race  of  ANSWERERS. 

April  14,  1745. 


Part  II.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.     35* 
R  E  M  A  R  K  S, 

4* 


PART    II. 


THE  curious  reader  of  the  many  and  various  Answerers 
of  the  Divine  Legation  (if  any  such  there  be)  cannot 
chuse  but  smile  to  see  them  so  unanimously  concur  in 
representing  me  as  desperately  enamoured  of  contro 
versy,  and  resolute  and  determined  for  the  last  word  ; 
especially,  when  it  is  observed,  that,  of  ten  or  twelve 
very  sizable  books,  written  against  it,  I  have  taken  notice 
of  a  small  part  only  of  two  or  three.  What  their  motives 
were,  in  this  representation,  is  neither  worth  mine,  nor 
the  reader's  while,  to  conjecture.  The  plain  fact  is,  I 
would  willingly  avoid  all  controversy,  so  far  as  is  con 
sistent  with  a  regard  to  the  Public ;  to  which  I  have 
thought  fit  to  appeal ;  and,  to  which,  consequently,  I 
have  given  a  kind  of  right  to  expect,  either  an  answer  to 
all  material  objections,  or  a  confession  of  their  force. 

For  such  as  these  I  have  still  waited  ;  and  now  find 
I  am  likely  to  wait.  In  the  mean  time,  I  must  either  be 
silent,  or  take  up  with  what  fortune  sends.  And  who 
could  be  long  undetermined  ?  For  he  must  be  very  fond 
of  controversy  indeed,  who  would  think  of  entering  into 
a  serious  dispute,  either  with  him,  who  holds  That  natu 
ral  religion  has  not,  and  yet  the  law  of  Moses  has,  the 
sanction  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments  *  : 
or  with  that  other,  who  cannot  see,  and  therefore,  with 
a  modest  boldness  peculiar  to  the  blind,  affirms  "  there 
"  is  not  the  least  connexion  between  the  two  propositions, 
"an  extraordinary  providence  and  the  omimon  of  a 

*  An  Essay  on  the  Nature  and  Obligations  of  Virtue,  byT.  Ru- 
therfortb,  B.'D.  Fellow  of  St.  John's  College  in  Cambridge,  and  of 
the  Royal  Society.  Cambridge. 

"future 


352          REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

"future  state*."  With  the  same  quickness  of  sight, 
I  make  no  doubt  he  would  affirm,  that  there  is  not  the 
least  connexion  between  the  old  English  honour,  and  the 
long  omission  of  a  qualification  law  for  members  of  the 
House  of  Commons  :  and  is  therefore  to  be  referred  to 
the  class  of  those  whom  I  send  for  an  answer,  to  the 
story  of  Eertrand  and  his  reading  glasses  f . 

But  when,  at  present,  no  urgent  occasion  drove  me  to 
trouble   the   reader   in  my  own  vindication,  an  inviting 

*  The  Belief  of  a  Future  State  proved  to  be  a  Fundamental  Arti 
cle  of  the  Religion  of  the  Hebrews,  &c.  By  John  Jackson,  Rector 
of  Rosington,  £c.  London. — p.  64.  Where  the  reader  will  see,  that 
all  his  objections,  even  to  the  very  blunders,  have  been  obviated  or 
answered  by  me  long  ago.  An  instance  of  this,  as  it  now  happens 
to  lie  before  me,  will  not  be  unentertaining.— "  As  a  future  state 
*'  (says  he)  may  be  demonstrably  deduced  from  principles  of 
"  natural  reason,  so  IT  is  CONTAINED  in  the  proposition  laid  down 
"  by  St.  Paul,  He  that  comctk  to  God  (as  a  worshipper  of  him)  must 
li  believe  that  he  is,  and  that  he  is  a  rewarder  »f  those  who  diligently 
ci  seek  him,  Heb.  xi.  6V  p.  9-  His  argument  requires  him  to  mean 
necessarily  contained.  But  before  that  can  be  shewn,  it  must  be 
proved  that  God  cannot,  in  this  world,  reward  those  who  diligently 
seek  him,  and  he  who  should  go  about  to  prove  that,  would  go  near 
to  contradict  all  which  Moses  has  said,  in  the  sanction  of  his 
law,  "  that  God  not  only  could,  but  would,  reward  those,  in  this 
"  world,  who  diligently  seek  him."  But  St.  Paul  knew  what  he 
said,  though  this  man  does  not.  He  knew  the  proposition  did  not 
necessarily,  but  might,  or  might  not,  contain  a  future  state,  just  as 
the  writer  applied  it :  and  he  delivered  it  accordingly.  First,  As 
he  was  an  exact  reasoner,  because  the  support  of  religion  depends 
not  on  rewards  here  or  hereafter-,  but  on  the  equal  distribution  of 
them,  wheresoever  they  are  conferred.  Secondly,  he  was  a  pertinent 
reasoner,  because  he  would  include  the  sanction  of  the  Mosaic  as 
well  as  Christian  religion ;  the  first  of  which  (as  he  tells  us  else 
where)  had  the  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is ;  the  other,  of  that 
which  is  to  come.  This  blunder,  as  the  reader  may  remember,  was 
exposed  in  theflrst  part  of  these  Remarks,  pp.  335,  &c.  But  I  would 
recommend  Mr.  Jackson's  whole  pamphlet  to  his  perusal,  as  a  spe 
cimen  of  that  illustrious  band,  in  which  he  has  thought  fit  to  inlist; 
and  which  indeed  would  have  been  imperfect  without  this  Answerer 
General;  who  has  all  his  life  long  opposed  himself  to  whatever 
received  the  public  approbation  :  and  after  having  written  against 
the  Inquiry  into  the  Nature  of  the  Human  Soul,  does  me  too  much 
honour  to  bt;  entirely  overlooked.  Which  however,  ic  is  probable 
he  had  been,  but  for  these  words  in  his  Title  Page, — The  Doctrine 
of  the  ancient  Philosophers  concerning  a  future  State  shewn  to  be  CQJI- 
s'utent  with  Reason.  A  vile  insinuation  !  Intimating  that  I  had 
written  something  against  the  reasonableness  of  that  doctrine. 

t  See  p.  274  of  this  vol.— Ed. 

opportunity 


Part  II.]     OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS,      353 

opportunity  offered  itself,  of  revenging  letters  in  general, 
on  their  very  worst  and  most  relentless  enemy,  the  AN 
SWERER  BY  PROFESSION".  Of  whose  trade  happening 
to  speak  with  the  contempt  that  it  deserves,  I  was  accused 
by  the  dull  malice  of  these  Answerers  themselves  to 
mean  the  gentlemen  of  the  long-robe ;  the  most  learned 
as  well  as  useful  body  in  the  state ;  and,  by  far,  the 
most  capable  part  of  that  public  to  whose  lay-judgment 
I  had  appealed  :  the  only  men  who  speak  sense  concern 
ing  MORAL  OBLIGATION,  and  the  best  judges  of  truth, 
by  their  knowledge  of  MORAL  EVIDENCE  :  their  habitual 
acquaintance  with  its  nature  and  with  the  proportioned 
weight  accompanying  every  varying  degree  of  probability, 
(a  knowledge  where  reason  is  in  its  sovereignty)  qualify 
ing  them  to  determine  in  all  clear  questions  of  religion. 
But  as  the  plainest  description  could  not  secure  me 
against  so  ridiculous  a  calumny ;  it  may  be  proper  to 
present  the  reader  with  the  originals  themselves.  Two 
of  which,  fortune  hath  just  thrown  into  my  hands ;  and 
two  the  most  curious  of  their  kind.  They  had  been 
Answerers  from  their  early  youth  ;  and,  as  the  heads 
of  opposite  parties,  never  yet  agreed  in  any  one  thing 
but  in  writing  against  the  Divine  Legation.  Here  they 
went  to  work  as  brethren :  and,  indeed,  not  without 
reason  :  the  book  was  manifestly  calculated  to  spoil  their 
trade. 

These  reverend  veterans,  whom  one  may,  not  impro 
perly,  call  Wardens  of  the  Company,  had  both,  as  we 
say,  trod  the  same  path  to  glory, 

Hie  pedum  mdlor  motii  — 
II ic  membris  et  mole  valens  — 

and  stuck  themselves  to  the  fortunes  and  principles  of 
two  truly  great  men,  to  whom,  the  present  happy  esta 
blishment  is  exceedingly  indebted :  to  the  one,  for  his 
support  of  our  religious  constitution ;  to  the  other,  for 
that  of  our  crciL  In  the  prosecution  of  which  services, 
just  reasons  of  church  and  state  had  drawn  them  into 
different  ways  of  thinking  and  engaged  in  a  very  warm 
controversy,  where  the  interests  of  both  were  capitally 
concerned. 

Into  this  famous  dispute,  without  any  other  preparation 
than  a  willing  mind;  and  a  strong  desire  to  be  doing,  our 

VOL.  XI,  A  A  two 


354  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  IT. 

two  squires-errant  would  needs  thrust  themselves,  to 
bear  the  wallet,  for  salve  and  lint,  and  the  balsam  of 
Fierabras:  where  they  battled  it,  unasked,  with  the 
broken  lances,  that  fell  on  each  side,  from  the  conflict 
of  their  masters.  But  let  not  the  reader  imagine  these 
were  only  things  they  picked  up  in  the  combat.  For, 
though  the  dispute  was,  whether  a  pure  virgin  church 
should  be  given  up  to  the  polluted  and  profane  em 
brace,  of  old  civil  policy;  yet  our  squires,  like  honest 
Sancho  Pancha  at  the  marriage-feast  of  the  fair  Quiterui9 
agreed  not  to  quarrel  with  the  scum  of  good  Caniachos 
kitchen.  In  a  word,  not  to  dishonour  them  by  compa 
risons,  like  Homers  heroes,  they  did  their  work,  and 
dined. 

But  now  that  both  have  been  so  much  luckier  than: 
men  generally  are  after  a  drawn-battle,  one  would 
imagine  they  should  have  been  glad  to  give  the  poor 
remainder  oi  their  lives  a  little  rest ;  and  not  go  out  again: 
seeking  adventures,  where  nothing  was  to  be  expected 
but  dry  blows.  For  the  golden  days  of  controversy  had 
been  long  over.  Here  was  no  church  to  be  defended  but 
that  of  Closes ;  which  would  hardly  bear  its  own  charges. 
A  Jewish  theocracy  was  a  barren  field,  compared  to  an 
English  establishment;  and  a  conflict  in  those  quarters 
was  like  a  battle  in  fairy-land,  which  affords  no  spoils 
but  in  description.  The  sage  Sancho  might,  here  again, 
have  been  their  example,  who  was  glad  at  last,  even 
unknighted,  to  retire  with  the  moderate  gratification  of 
a  bill  of  exchange  for  three  asses.  But, 

"  Our  beavor'd  knights,  who  bear  upon  their  shield 
"  Three  steeples  argent  in  a  sable  field," 

are  still  restless  and  unsatisfied,  and  aspiring  after  the 

GOLDEN   HELMET  OF  IViAMBllINO. 

Since  therefore  they  have  thought  fit  once  more  to 
entertain  the  Public,  I  will  do  my  part  that  they  lose  not 
the  last  and  only  reward  yet  unpaid  them,  a  ceremonial 
and  solemn  plaudit  e:  that  the  posterity  of  those  whom 
they  so  -well  entertained  in  the  last  age,  may  understand 
what  good  judges  their  fathers  were  of  merit.  For  merit 
they  laid  claim  to ;  and  this  search  after  adventures,  they 
called  a  search  after,  truth.  For  the  easiest  of  all  things 
is.  to  give  a  good  name:;  as  the  hardest  is  to  deserve  one. 
\. .  •;  '  i  >  Thus, 


Remark].]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.    355 

Thus,  (in  the  manner  of  these  moderators  between  truth 
and  falsehood)  the  TOYMAN  OF  BATH,  with  great  solem 
nity  of  face  informs  you,  that  he  is  a  factor  between  the 
poor  and  the  rich.  Not  that  this  importance  would  be 
much  amiss,  if  it  stopt  there ;  as  affording  others  (who 
take  the  thing  right,  in  the  sense  of  making  the  most  of 
both)  a  very  innocent  occasion  of  mirth  :  but  the  mischief 
is,  it  is  apt  to  give  them  wrong  notions  of  themselves : 
and  the  Answerer  begins  to  think  himself  a  servant  of 
truth ;  and  the  toyman,  an  useful  member  in  the  state. 

But  I  should  be  very  unjust  to  my  own  order,  did  I 
suffer  the  reader  to  remain  under  a  wrong  impression,  as 
if  these  were  the  usual  ways  of  rising  to  the  honours  of 
the  gown.  1  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing,  in  the  number 
of  my  friends,  many  who  have  made  their  fortune  by 
supporting  the  dignity  of  scholars,  and  preserving  the 
integrity  of  churchmen.  And  it  is  with  high  satisfaction 
I  can  take  this  occasion  of  doing  justice  to  the  merit  of 
two  of  them  in  particular,  who  have  both  greatly  distin 
guished  themselves,  in  the  common  service  of  religion, 
against  libertinism  and  infidelity.  In  which,  the  one  has 
so  employed  his  great  talents  of  reasoning,  and  profound 
knowledge  in  true  philosophy  ;  and  the  other,  his  familiar 
acquaintance  with  antiquity,  and  his  exact  and  critical 
skill  in  the  languages ;  as  to  do  all  that  can,  in  these 
times,  be  expected  from  the  ablest  servants  of  truth,  to 
put  infidelity  to  silence  :  while  at  the  same  time,  to  approve 
their  own  sincerity,  they  have  been  so  far  from  looking 
with  a  jealous  or  suspicious  eye  on  others  engaged  with 
them  in  the  same  service,  that  it  was  with  pleasure  they 
saw  new  lights  attempted  to  be  struck  out  for  its  support; 
and  with  readiness  that  they  lent  their  best  assistance 
to  put  them  in  a  way  of  being  fairly  considered.  I 
need  not  tell  the  reader,  that  in  this  account  I  pay  a 
very  sparing  tribute  to  the  merit  of  the  worthy  deans  of 
Christ-Church  and  /Winchester*. 

REMARK  I. — BUT  it  is  now  time  our  Heroes  should 

amwer  for  themselves.     The  Examiner  of  wy  second 

Proposition  leads  the  way:  who,  at  the  time  of  writing  my 

Appendix  to  the  first  part  of  these  Remarks,   I   had  not 

*  Dr.  John  Conybear,  and  Dr.  Zach.  Pearce. 

A  A  2  the 


356  .        REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  IT, 

the  least  conception  to  be  Dr.  Stubbing.  And  when 
afterwards  I  found  the  pamphlet  generally  given  to  him, 
I  had  still  one  very  particular  reason  not  t0  credit  the 
report.  But  when  (on  the  best  information)  I  could  no 
longer  doubt  of  the  author,  I  sent  him  word,  that,  if  he 
would  own  his  book,  I  would  give  it  a  full  answer.  lie 
desired  to  be  excused  :  and  still  hides  his  head  ;  so  that 
we  must  try  to  catch  this  eel  of  controversy  by  the  tail ; 
the  only  part  which  sticks  out  of  the  mud ;  more  dirty 
indeed  than  slippery;  and  still  more  weak  than  dirty:  as 
passing  through  a  trap  where  lie  was  forced,  al  every 
step,  to  leave  part  of  his  skin,  that  is,  his  system  *, 
behind  him.  His  Appendix  therefore,  the  part  yet  un 
touched,  shall  be  the  subject  of  our  following  Remarks : 
it  is  intitled,  Cnmidcrations  on  the  Cc.minami  to  offer  up 
/i in  SMI.  In  this  he  opposes  an  explanation,  which,  if 
true,  will  be  owned  by  all  to  be  of  the  highest  service  to 
religion.  I  shall  therefore  beg  leave  to  quote  and  re- 
examine  it  paragraph  by  paragraph. 

By  which  it  will  be  seen,  that,  as  Cicero  says  of  VcUdus 
the  Epicurean,  "  lie  fears  nothing  so  much  as  to  appear 
"  to  the  reader  to  doubt  of  any  thing  f:"  And  hopes 
nothing  so  much  as  that  the  reader  will  never  doubt  of 
him.  Hence  it  is,  that  he,  all  the  way,  boldly  denies 
what  he  does  not  understand ;  and  prudently  conceals 
what  he  is  unable  to  confute.  But  solt !  before  tiiis  im 
portant  APPENDIX  shews  itself,  we  are  gradually  brought 
on  and  prepared  for  its  appearance  by  this  inquisitorial 
sentence,  which  concludes  his  EXAMINATION.  "  Whe- 
"  ther  you  intend  (says  he)  to  proceed,  or  will  suffer 
"  yourself  to  be  wholly  diverted  from  your  purpose  by 
"  matters  of  another  kind,  LI<:SS  SUITABLE  TO  voni 
"  CLERICAL  FUNCTION  ;  you  best  know.  But  give  me 
"  leave  to  say,  Sir,  you  are  a  debtor  to  the  Public ;  and 
"  I  hope  that  in  your  next  vokmie  YOU  WILL  MARK 

"  SOME  AMENDS  FOR  THE  WRONG  YOU   HAVE  DONE  'JO 

"  RELIGION  in  this;  in  which,  instead  of  placing  Chris- 
"  tianity  upon  a  surer  bottom,  YOU   HAVE  ONLY  1-1  R- 

"  NISHED    OUT    MORE    HANDLES    TO    UNBELIEVERS — 

"  Do  you  think  such  an  image  of  Revelation  as  this  is 

*  See  p.  308,  et  seq.  of  this  volume. 

i  Nil  tarn  metuens  quam  ne  dubitare  aliqua  de  re  videretur. 

« likely 


Remark  i.]   OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.   357 

"  likely  to  cure  unbelievers  of  their  prejudices,  and  will 
"  not  rather  minister  fresh  OFFENCE?  If  any  thing 
*'  hinders  this  effect,  it  must  be  the  ABSURDITY  OF  THE 
"  CONCEIT.  But  ENOUGH  of  this.  If  the  reader  has 
"  a  mind  to  see  another  very  ST RON G  EXAMPLE  OF  THE 
"  SAME  SORT  OF  MANAGEMENT,  lie  may  find  it  in  the 
"APPENDIX*." 

And  in  this  manner  has  every  honest  man  been  treated 
before  me,  whenever  he  did,  or  did  but  endeavour  to 
serve  mankind.  Harvey  himself,  who  had  more  and 
much  abler  examiners  of  the  absurdity  of  his  conceit 
than  I  have  had  of  mine,  scarce  got  better  off  with  one 
JEmiims  Parisanus,  a  man  of  great  name  in  Italy,  who 
wrote  a  complete  refutation  (as  he  called  it)  of  the 
Doctor's  arguments  for  the  circulation  of  the  blood :  a 
discovery  which  appears  to  have  given  this  Italian  no 
less  disturbance  than  The  D'vcine  Legation  has  mven  our 

o  m        o 

Examiner. — "  Quamobrem  nos  aliter  philosophati  et 
"  ratiocinati  de  Harveii  fidentia  (says  he)  admirati ;  de 
•"  clar.  Londinensis  Academice  consensu  et  conspiratione 
"  obstupefacti,  &c. — Verum  enirnvero  collecto  spiritu, 
"  inissa  tandem  maximre  novitatis  admiratione,  melius 
"  nobis  consulti,  ad  vivuin  Harveii  allata  resecantes,  ut 
46  commenticia  et  ficta  excogitata  colligentes,  propria 
"  nostra  sentenlia  permansimus. — Semper  in  ore  atque 
"  in  animo  habere  debemus,  ut  homines  nos  esse  memi- 
"  nerirnus,  ea  lege  natos,  ut  exposita  fortunae  telis  omni- 
"  bus  et  nostra  sit  vita,  &  nostra?  actiones  cunctae  sub 
"  Censoribus  semper  extent:  Proindeque  PERPETUO 
:£  PUGNANDUM  SIT;  &  nunc  quam  maxime,  quum  pro 
"  aris  et  focis  atque  etiam  Larariis  (quippe  de  Corde,  &c.) 
"  fortiter  decertandum." — Seriously,  this  w?as  a  sad  story. 
The  poor  gentleman  was  plainly  frighted.  But  still  he 
laments  like  a  gentleman.  Here  are  no  insinuations  that 
Harvey  had  suffered  himself  to  be  diverted  by  matters 
less  suitable  to  his  medical  Junction,  while  he  was  ex 
ploring  the  use  of  the  venal  valves.  Nor  does  he 
take  the  liberty  to  tell  him,  that  he  ought  to  make 
amends  for  the  wrong  he  has  done  to  physic;  though  he 
thought  he  had  done  a  great  deal :  or  that  he  had 
furnished  out  more  handles  for  empirics:  though  he 
*  Exam,  of  Mr.  Jlr's  second  Prop.  pp.  132, 133. 

A  A  3  thought 


358  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

thought  they  had  already  too  many  :  but  he  politely  lays 
the  fault  upon  the  restless  temper  of  human  nature  itself: 
which  will  never  suffer  us  to  enjoy  our  old  opinions  in 
quiet.  But  our  Examiner  is  of  another  cast.  And 
nothing  can  save  you  harmless,  when  once  you  have 
incurred  the  danger  of  OFFENCE,  but  the  absurdity  of 
your  conceits :  though  offence,  that  fatal  enemy  to  truth, 
be,  of  all  conceits,  the  most  absurd  whenever  it  is  taken 
before  it  be  given.  It  is  true,  the  good  JEniiims  comes 
a  little  to  himself,  and  nearer  to  our  Examiner,  in  the 
language  of  his  conclusion.  He  had  recovered  heart; 
his  victories  had  elated  him ;  and  Harvey's  numerous 
experiments  upon  all  animal  nature  afforded  him  as 
happy  an  occasion  of  raillery,  as  the  Dissertations  in 
The  Divine  Legation  have  given  those  who  took  them  for 
digressions.  "  Jam  cliu  (says  he)  per  dumeta,  vepres, 
"  syrtes,  ac  scopulos,  duxit  nos  Harveius;  diuque  in  ejus 
"  vivariis  et  piscinis  inter  testudines,  anguillas,  cochleas, 
"  ranas,  bufones,  et  serpentes,  vagati  sumus ;  omnia 
"  tamen  evertimus,  ejusque  perversa  vestigia  cuncta  de- 
"  teximus ;  omnia  cum  pulvisculo  everrentes  quam  lon- 
"  gissime  ablegavimus.  Quee  in  celebrium  aniiquorum 
"  recentiorumque  omnium  ab  Harveio  immerito  not  at  or  um, 
"  defensionem  dicta  sunto.  Heic — redeamus ;  ut  quae  jam 
"  reprobata  et  ablegata  sunt,  ratione,  sensu,  AUTOPSIA, 
"  experimentis,  in  veritatis  gratiam  fortius  obstringantur 
"  — prasdicta3  opinionis  omnia  destruendo,  et  inter  sese 
"  pugnantia  ulterius  ostendcndo,"  £c.  £c.  And  in  the 
same  strain,  our  Examiner.  Who  assures  his  reader, 
that,  if  any  thing  can  hinder  the  ill  effects  which  my 
interpretation  of  the  command  to  Abraham  must  have 
upon  religion,  it  will  be  his  exposing  the  absurdity  of  the. 
conceit.  This  is  confidently  said.  But,  what  then?  He 
can  prove  it.  So  it  is  to  be  hoped.  If  not  —  However 
let  us  first  give  him  a  fair  hearing. 

"  I  nunc,  et  verbis  virtutem  illude  superbis." 

II.  He  begins  with  telling  me  "  that  my  account  of 
"  the  command  to  Abraham  to  offer  up  his  son  Isaac^ 
*'  has  no  foundation  in  truth ;  and  that  in  attempting  to 
"  remove  objections,  very  well  GUARDED  against  by  the 
"  common  interpretation,  1  have  raised  new  ones  not  to 

"  be 


Remark  2.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.    359 

"  be  answered  upon  mine.     And  of  this   (says  he)  let 
"  the  reader  judge*." — Agreed — "  Your  position  then 
"  (continues  he)  is  this  :  That  when  Cod  says  to  Abra- 
•"  ham,  Take  thou  thy  son,  thy  only  son  Isaac,  fyc.  the 
"  command  i-s  merely  an  information  by  action  instead  of 
41  words,  of  the  great  sacrifice  of  the  redemption  of  man- 
"  kind,  given  at  the  request  of  Abraham ;  who  longed, 
"  impatiently,  to  see  Christ's  day.     The  foundation  of 
"  your  thesis   you    lay  in    that  Scripture   of   St.  John 
"  (ch.  viii.  56.)  where  Jems  says  to  the  unbelieving  Jews, 
"  Your  father  Abraham  rejoiced  to  see  my  day,  and  he 
"  saw  it  and  was  glad.     As  this  text  is  your  .corner* 
"  stone,   your  interpretation  ought  to    be  very  strongly 
"  supported."  p.  138.     Well,   as  he  doubts  its  strength, 
and  loves  the  solid  buttress  of  an  authority,  let  him  even 
take,  before  we  go  any  further,   this  old  seasoned  one. 
from  the  famous  Hammond;  who  when  he  had  translated 
jtyaAAiairaJo  fva  i'cfy  rw  qpipctv  T^V  ly*m,  by — Was  exceeding 
glad  THAT  HE  MIGHT  SEE  my  day,  proceeds  to  para 
phrase  the  text  in  the  following  .vords,  which  oui  Phari 
saical  Examiner  may  very  naturally  consider  as  addressed 
to  himself.    And  because  you  talk  so  much  o/*  ABRAHAM, 
/  will  now  say  of  him,  that  he,   having  received  the 
promise  of  the  Messiah,  Gen.  xi.  35.  DID  THEREUPON; 
VEHEMENTLY  and  with  great  pleasure  and  eailiency  of 
mind  DESIRE  TO   LOOK  NEARER   INTO  IT,   to  see  my 
coming  into  the  world,  and  a  REVELATION  of  it  WAS 
MADE  UNTO  HIM,  and  in  It  of  the  state  of  the  Gospel, 
-and  he  was  heartily  joyed  at  it f.     However,  the  force  of 
our  Examiner's  concluding  Remark  will  be  seen  when  IIQ 
comes  to  give  us  the  reason  of  it  in  its  place.     In  the 
mean  time,  let  me  observe,  that,  if  he  will  needs  make 
this  text  my  corner-stone,  he  should  have  shewn  it  fairly 
as  it  was  laid  in  The  Divine  Legation ;  and  not  have 
taken  it  out  of  its  cement,  to  make  it  fit  for  nothing  but 
the  blind  corner  of  an  incoherent  pamphlet.     But  it  was 
not  for  the   credit  of  his  examination  to  acquaint  the 
reader  that  my  observations  on  the  text  of  St.  John  were 
introduced  in  this  manner.     If  we  consider  Abraham's 

*  Considerations  on  the  command  to  Abraham  to  offer  up  Isaac, 
pp.  137,  138. 

f  Paraph,  on  the  New  Testament,  in  loc, 

A  A  4  personal 


360  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

personal  character,  together  with  the  choice  made  of 
him  for  the  head  ami  origin  of  that  people,  which  God 
•would  make  holy  and  separate  to  himself,  from  whence 
was  to  arise  the  Redeemer  of  mankind,  the  ultimate  end 
of  that  separation,  we  cannot  but  conclude  it  probable  that 
the  knowledge  of  this  Redeemer  would  be  revealed  to 
him.  S'hall  I  hide  from  Abraham  the  thing  which  I  do  ? 

O 

says  God,  in  a  matter  that  much  less   concerned  the 
Father  of  the  faithful,    And  here  in  the  words  of  Jesus, 
Abraham  rejoiced,  $c.  we  hare  this  PROBABLE   FACT 
made  certain*,  8§c,     And  then  I  went  on  to  prove,  that 
by  the  word  day,  in  the  text,  was  meant  the  great  sacri 
fice  of  Christ — But  let  us  take  it  as  it  lies  in  our  Con- 
siderer,       "  You   say   then   (continues    he,    addressing 
"  himself  to  the  Author  of  The  Divine  Legation}  that 
"  by  the  word  day  is  meant  the  great  sacrifice  «/' Christ; 
*f  which  is  thus  proved  :  IVhen  the  figurative  word  DAY 
"  is  used  not  to  express  in  general  the  period  of  any  ones 
"  existence,  but  to  denote  fits  peculiar  office  and  employ- 
"rnent;  It  must  needs  signify,  tliat  very  circumstance  of 
"•  his   life,  which  is  the   characteristic  of  such    office 
"  and  employment.     But  Jesus  is  here  speaking  of  his 
"  peculiar  office  and  employment,   i.  e.  his  office  of  lle- 
"  deemer.     Therefore,  by    the  word  DAY  must  needs  be 
"  meant  the  characteristic  circinnstance  of  his  life.    But 
"  that  circumstance  was  laying  It  down  j or  t lie  redemption 
"  of  mankind.     Consequently  by  the  word  DAY  is  meant 
"  the  GREAT  SACRIFICE  of  Christ  f."   This  is  indeed  my 
argument,  fairly  stated.  And  to  that  he  replies,   "  Really, 
"  Sir,  I  see  no  manner  of  consequence  in  this  reasoning. 
"  That  Christ's   day  hath    reference    to  his   office   as 
"  Redeemer,   I  grant.     The  day  of  Christ  denotes  the 
"  time  when  Christ  should  come,  i.  e.  when  HE  should 
"  come  who  was  to  be  such  by  office  and  employment. 
"  But  why  it  must  import  also  that  when  Christ  came 
"  he  should  be  offered  up  as  a  sacrifice,  I  dq  not  in  the 
"  least  apprehend  :  because  I  can  very  easily  understand, 
fc  that  Abraham  might  have  been  informed  that  Christ 
fi  was  to  come,  without  being  informed  that  he  was  to 
"  lay  down  his  life  as  a.  sacrifice.     If  Abraham  saw  that 
fc  a  time  would  come  when  one  of  his  seed  should  take 
*  Div.  Leg.  vol.  vi.  pp.  6,  7.  of  this  edit,    f  Consid.  pp.  138,  139. 

"  away 


Remark  2.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.   361 

"  away  the  curse,  he  saw  Christ's  day.  And  this  I  say 
"  he  might  see,  whether  he  saw  by  what  act  the  curse 
"  was  taken  away  or  not."  p.  1 39. 

The  reader  sees  here,  that,   at  first  sight,  he  would 
seem  to  grant  my  premises. — "  That  Christ's  day  (says 
"  he)  hath  reference  to  the  office  as  Redeemer,  I  grant." 
Yet  the  very  next  words  which  he  uses  to  explain  it  con 
tradict  it :   the  day  of  Christ  denotes  the  TIME  when 
Christ  should  come.     All  the  sense  therefore,  I  can  make 
of  the  concession,  when  joined  to  the  explanation  of  it, 
amounts  to  this — "  Chris fs  day  has   reference   to  his 
of/ice :  no,   not  to  his  office,   but  to  his  time"     But  he 
may  grow  clearer  as  he  runs.     "  But  why  it  must  import 
"  ALSO  that  when  Christ  came  he  should  be  offered  up 
"  as  a  sacrifice,  I  do  not  in  the  least  apprehend."     Nor 
I,  neither.     Had  I  said,  that  the  word  day  in  the  text, 
imported  the  time,  I  could  have  as  little  apprehended  as 
he  does,  how  that  which  imports  tune,  imports  ALSO  the 
thing  done  in  time.     Let  him  take  this  nonsense,  there 
fore,  to  himself.     I  argued  in  a  plain  manner,  thus — • 
When  the  word  day  is  used  to  express,   in   general,  the 
period  of  any  one's  existence,  then  it  denotes  time ;  when 
to  express  his  peculiar  office  and  employment,  then  it 
denotes,  not  the  time,  but  that  circumstance  of  life  cha 
racteristic  of  such  office  and  employment.     Day,  in  the 
text,  is  used  to  express  Christ's   peculiar  office  and  em 
ployment.     Therefore* — But  what  follows  is  still  better. 
His  want  of  apprehension,  it  seems,  is  founded  in  this, 
"  That  he  can  easily  understand,  that  Abraliafn  might 
"  have  been  informed  that  Christ  was  to  come;  without 
"  being  informed  that  he  was  to  lay  down  his  life  as  a 
"  sacrifice."     Yes,   and  so  could  I  likewise ;  or  I  had 
never  been  at  the  pains  of  making  the  criticism  on  the 
word  day  :  which  takes  all  its  force  from  this  very  truth, 
that  Abraham  might  have  been  informed  of  one,  without 
the  other.     And,  therefore,  to  prove  he  was  informed  of 
that  other,  I  produced  the  text  in  question,  which  afforded 
the  occasion  of  the  criticism.     He  goes  on — "  If  Abra- 

*  But  the  reader  may  see  this  truth  very  well  inforced,  from 
observations  on  the  context,  by  a  learned  and  sensible  writer,  in  a 
pamphlet  signed  L.  U.P.  and  intitled,  A  Letter  to  the  Author  of 
a  late  Epistolary  Dissertation,  addressed  to  Mr.  Warburton, 
pp.38  to  4-1, 

"  ham 


502        •  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

Ct  ham  saw,  that  a  time  would  come  when  one  of  his 
"  seed  should  take  awny  the  curse,  he  saw  Chris f$  DAY." 
Without  donbt  he  did.  Because  it  is  agreed  thut</tfy 
may  signify  cither  time,  or  circumstance  of  actian.  But 
what  is  this  to  the  purpose?  The  question  is  not  whether 
the  word  may  not,  indefinitely,  signify  time ;  but  whether 
it  signifies  time  in  this  text.  I  have  shewn  it  does  not. 
And  what  has  he  said  to  prove  it  does  ?  Why  that  it 
may  do  so,  in  another  place.  His  whole  answer,  there 
fore,  to  the  argument,  we  see,  proceeds  on  an  in  tire 
inapprehension  of  the  very  drift  and  purpose  of  it 

III.  I  had  said,  That  not  only  the  matter,  but  the 
manner,  hkewise,  of  this  great  Revelation,  is  delivered  in 
the  text. — Abraham  rejoiced  to  SEE  my  day,  and  he 
SAW  it,  and  was  glad.  *W  IAH  rw  jpepw  rii/  l/w,  *,  EIAE. 
Which  evidently  shews  it  to  have  been  made,  not  by  relation 
in  words,  but  by  REPRESENTATION  inaction.  That  the 
verb  it$u  is  frequently  used,  in  the  New  Testament,  in  its 
proper  signification,  to  see  sensibly.  But  whether  lite 
rally  orjigurativeiy,  it  always  denotes  a  full  intuition. 
That  the  expression  was  as  strong  in  the  Syrian  language, 
used  by  Jesus,  as  here,  in  the  Greek  of  his  historian-, 
which  appears  from  the  reply  the  Jews  made  to  him. — 
Thou  art  not  y€t  fifty  years  old,  and  hast  thou  SEEN" 
Abraham?  Plainly  intimating,  that  they  understood 
the  assertion,  of  Abraham's  seeing  Christ's  day,  to  be  a 
real  beholding  him  in  person.  That  we  are  therefore  to 
conclude,  from  the  words  of  the  text,  that  the  redemption 
of  mankind  was  not  only  revealed  to  Abraham,  but  was 
revealed  likewise  by  representation  *.  This  argument  our 
punctual  Examiner  represents  in  the  following  manner : 
4t  You  are  not  more  successful  in  your  next  point, 
"  Abraham  rejoiced  to  see  my  day,  and  he  saw  it  and  was 
"  glad.  IW  IAH  r^v  ifAifutf  w  ipw  ^  EIAE.  —  This  (say 
"  you)  evidently  shews  it  [the  Revelation]  to  have  been 
•"  made  not  by  relation  in  words,  but  by  representation 
"  in  action.  How  so  ?  The  reason  follows.  The  verb 
"  *tiu  is  frequently  used  in  the  New  Testament,  in  its 
"  proper  si griijicatmi,  to  see  sensibly. — In  the  New  Tes- 
*'  tament  do  you  say  ?  Yes,  Sir,  and  in  every  Greek 

*.  Div.  Leg.  vol.  vi.p.  8.  of  this  edit. 

«  book 


Remark  3.]   OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.    363 

"  book  you  ever  read  in  your  lite.  What  you  SHOULD 
"  have  said  is,  that  it  is  so  used  here;  and  i  suppose 
"  you  would  have  said  so,  if  you  had  known  how  to  have 
"  proved  it."  pp.  130,  140. 

<;  The  reason  follows"  (says  he).  Where?  In  The 
Divine  Legation  indeed,  but  not  in  his  imperlect  quota 
tion ;  which  breaks  off  before  he  conies  to  my  argun  eht. 
One  who  knew  him  not  so  well  as  I  do,  would  suspect 
this  was  done  to  serve  a  purpose.  No  such  matter : 
'twas  all  pure  innocence.  He  mistook  the  introduction 
of  my  argument  for  the  argument  itself.  The  argument 
itself  which  he  omits  in  the  quotation  (and  which  was  all 
I  wanted  for  the  proof  of  my  point),  was,  That  the  verb 
fTJ«,  whether  used  literally  or  figuratively,  always  denotes 
a  full  intuition.  And  this  argument,  I  introduced  in  the 
following  manner,  The  verb  tt3u  is  frequently  used  in  the 
New  Testament  in  its  proper  signification,  to  sec  sensibly. 
Unluckily,  as  we  say,  he  took  this  for  the  argument 
itself,  and  thus  corrects  me  for  it :  "  What  you  SHOULD 
"  have  said,  is,  that  it  is  so  used  here ;  and  I  suppose 
"  you  would  have  said  so,  if  you  had  known  how  to  have 
"  proved  it."  See,  here,  the  true  origin  both  of  pre* 
scribing  and  divining!  His  IGNORANCE  of  what ./  did 
say,  leads  him  to  tell  me  what  I  should  have  said;  and  to 
divine  what  /  would  have  said.  But,  what  I  said,  I'll 
stand  to,  That  the  verb  «<fe>  alzvays  denotes  a  jull  intui 
tion.  This  was  all  I  wanted  from  the  text ;  and  on  this 
foundation  I  proceeded,  in  the  sequel  of  the  discourse, 
to  prove  that  Abraham  saw  sensibly.  Therefore,  when 
my  Examiner  takes  it  (as  he  does)  for  granted,  that 
because  in  this  place,  I  had  not  proved  that  the  word 
implied  to  see  sensibly,  I  had  not  proved  it  at  all;  he  is 
a  second  time  mistaken. 

He  goes  on,  "  One  thing  needs  no  proof,  which  is, 
"  that,  in  all  languages,  seeing  and  knowing  are  fre- 
"  quently  used  as  equivalent  terms."  p.  140.  As  I 
don't  know  what  he  means  by  this  one  thing,  I  can  only 
requite  him  with  another,  that  needs  as  little ;  which  is, 
that,  in  all  churches,  seeing  and  believing  are  frequently 
iised,  by  bigots,  as  equivalent  terms.  Here's  my  obser 
vation  for  his  observation ;  and,  I  thkik,  a  good  deal 
more  to  the  purpose. 

IV.  But 


364  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

IV.  But  our  Examiner  will  now  shew,  that,  seeing 
Christ's  day,  and  seeing  the  promises  afar  off,  are  one 
and  the  same  thing.  *'  We  have  an  instance  (says  he) 
"  directly  to  the  point  in  hand,  Heb.xi.i^.  These  all 
"  died  in  Jaith,  not  having  received  the  promises ;  dx\& 
"  •GroppuQiit  aJT*\  IAONTE2,  but  having  SEEX  them  afar 
"  off.  You  will  remember,  Sir,  that  Abraham  stands  in 
"  this  catalogue,  amongst  the  rest;  and  the  Apostle  says 
"  of  them  all  indifferently,  that  they  saw  the  promises, 
•"  i.  e.  that  blessing  which  was  the  subject  of  these  pro- 
"  mises.  How  did  they  see  them  ?  By  representation 
"  in  action,  will  you  say?  I  suppose  not.  But  the  apos- 
"  tie  tells  you  how.  They  saw  them  by  faith,  a  great 
"  way  off:  and  why  may  not  this  be  all  that  our  Saviour 
"  intended  %  What  difference,  in  sense,  is  there  between 
"  saying,  that  he  saw  the  promises  ajar  off';  and  that  he 
"  saw  Chrisfs  day?"  p.  140. 

"  We  have  an  instance  (says  lie)  directly  to  the  point 
"  in  hand."  Of  what?  Why,  that  the  verb  a'Jw  signifies 
the  same  in  this  place  of  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews  as 
in  the  text  in  question.  Now,  there  it  is  applied  to 
promises,  so  cannot  be  literal;  and  here  it  is  applied  to 
day,  and  so,  very  well,  may.  Yet  this  he  calls  "  an 
instance  directly  to  the  point  in  hand." 

"  You  will  remember,  Sir  (says  he)  that  Abraham 
"  stands  in  that  catalogue  amongst  the  rest."  And  you 
will  remember,  Sir>  say  I,  That  Abraham  stands  alone  in 
the  words  of  Jesus.  But  your  logic,  1  suppose,  con 
cludes  thus  :  if  Abraham  knew  as  much  as  the  rest ;  why, 
then  the  rest  knew  as  much  as  Abraham.  Otherwise 
you  would  have  observed,  that  the  seeing  the  promises 
afar  off'  related  to  that  time  of  the  life  of  each  Patriarch 
in  which  he  performed  the  act  of  faith  there  celebrated. 
For  the  argument  stands  thus  :  by  faith,  Abel,  Enoch, 
Noah,  Abraham,  did  so  and  so;  yet,  as  illustrious  as 
those  acts  of  faith  were,  they  had  then  only  seen  the  pro 
mises  afar  off':  therefore  you  Christians,  §c.  And  it  is 
remarkable  that  the  acts  of  faith,  for  which  Abraham  is 
here  celebrated,  were  prior  in  time  to  the  command  to 
offer  up  his  son.  Now,  after  this,  what  hinders  our 
concluding,  from  the  words  of  Jesus,  that  Abraham  had 
a  still  more  illustrious  manifestation  of  the  promise  ? 

However, 


Remark  5-]    OCCzVSIONAL  REFLECTIONS.   365 

However,  if  I  should  fail  in  reconciling  Jesus  and  the 
author  of  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  let  the  reader 
remember,  that  it  is  our  Examiner  who  has  set  them  at 
variance.  And  he  only  makes  the  breach  wider,  where 
he  tries  to  bring  them  to  a  temper.  "  The  apostle 
"  (says  he)  tells  you,  they  saw  the  promises,  by  faith,  a 
"  great  way  off:  and  why  may  not  this  be  all  that  our 
"  Saviour  intended  ?  What  difference  IN  SENSE,  is  there 
"  between  saying,  that  he  saw  the  promises  afar  off,  and:, 
"  that  he  saw  Chris?  s  day?"  What  difference  do  you 
ask  ?  Why,  about  as  much  as  between  your  sight  and 
ChillingKorttis.  Or  as  much  as  between  an  object  seen, 
at  a  distance,  through  a  mist;  and  one,  at  hand,  in  broad 
daylight. 

V.  "  But,  he  owns,  that,  if  this  was  all,  perhaps  / 
"  should  tell  him,  that  it  was  a  very  strange  answer  of  the 
"  Jews,  thou  art  not  yet  fifty  years  old,  and  hast  thou 
"  seen  Abraham"  p.  140.  He  is  very  right.  He  might 
be  sure  I  would.  In  answer  therefore  to  this  difficulty, 
he  goes  on  and  says,  "  No  doubt,  Sir,  the  Jews  answer 
"  our  Saviour,  as  if  he  had  said,  that  Abraham  and  he 
"  were  contemporaries ;  in  which,  they  answered  very 
"  foolishly,  as  they  did  on  many  other  occasions  ;  and  the 
"  answer  will  as  little  agree  with  your  interpretation  as  it 
"  does  with  mine.  For  does  your  interpretation  suppose 
"  that  Abraham  saw  Christ  in  person  ?  No;  you  say 
"  it  was  by  representation  only."  pp.  140,  141. 

"  The  Jews  answer  our  Saviour  as  if  he  had  said,  that 
''  Abraham  and  he  were  contemporaries."  Do  they  so? 
Why  then,  'tis  plain,  the  expression  was  as  strong  in  the 
Syrian  Language,  used  by  Jesus,  as  in  the  Greek  of  his 
historian,  which  was  all  I  aimed  to  prove  by  it.  But 
"  in  this  (says  he)  they  answered  very  foolishly."  What 
then  ?  Did  I  quote  them  for  their  wisdom  ?  A  little 
common  sense  was  all  I  wanted  of  them  :  and  that,  'tis 
plain,  they  had.  For  the  folly  of  their  answer  arises 
from  it.  They  heard  Jesus  use  a  word  in  their  vulgar 
idiom,  which  signified  to  see  corporeally,  and  common 
sense  led  them  to  conclude  he  used  it  in  the  vulgar 
meaning.  In  this  they  were  not  mistaken.  But,  from 
thence,  they  inferred,  that  he  meant  it  in  the  sense  of 


seeing 


366  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  IT. 

seeing  personally ;  and  in  this,  they  were.     And  now  let 
the  reader  judge  whether  tlie  jolly  of  their  anszver  shews 
the  Join/  of  my  argument,  or  of  my  Examiner's.     Nay 
further,  he  tells  us,  they  answered  "  as  foolishly  on  many 
"  other  occasions."      They  did  so ;  and   I  will  remind 
him  of  one,     Jesus  says  to  hicodemus,  except  a  man  be 
born  again,  he  cannot  see    the  kingdom  of  God*,  $c. 
Suppose  now,  from  these  words,   I   should  attempt  to 
prove  that  regeneration  and  divine  grace  were  realities, 
and  not  mere  metaphors.     For  that  Jesus,  in  declaring 
the  necessity  of  them,  used  such  strong  expressions  that 
Aicodemus  understood  him  to  mean  the  being  physically 
born  again,  and  entering  the  second  time  into  the  womb. 
Would  it  be  sufficient,  let  me  ask  my  Examiner,  to  reply 
in  this  manner,    "  No  doubt,  Sir,  Nicodemus  answered 
"  our  Saviour  as  if  he  had  said,  that  a  follower  of  the 
"  Gospel   must  enter  a  second  time  into  his  mothers 
"  icomb  and  be  born:  in  which  he  answered  very  fool- 
"  ishly ;  and  the  answer  will  as  little  agree  with  your 
"  interpretation  as  it  does  with  mine.     For  does  your 
"  interpretation  suppose  he  should  so  enter  ?     No ;  but 
"  that  he  should  be  born  of  water  and  of  the  spirit."9 
Would  this,  I  say,  be  deemed,  by  our  Examiner,  a  suffi 
cient  answer  ?     When  he  has  resolved  me  this,  J  shall, 
perhaps,  have  something  farther  to  say  to  him.     In  the 
mean  time  I  go  on.     And,   in  returning  him  his  last 
woids  restored  to  their  subject,  help  him  forward  in  the 
solution  of  what   I   expect  from   him.     "  The  answer 
"  (says  he)  will  as  little  agree  with  your  interpretation 
"  as  it  does  with  mine.     For  does  your  interpretation 
"  suppose  that  Abraham  saw  Christ  in  person?     No; 
"  you  say,   it  was  by  representation  only."     Very  well. 
Let  me  ask  then,  in  the  first  place,  whether  he  supposes 
what  I  said  on  this  occasion,  was  to  prove  that  Abraham 
saw  Christ  from  the  reverend   authority  of  his  Jewish 
adversaries;  or  to  prove  that  the  verb  sUu  'signified  to  see 
literally,  from  their  mistaken  answer  ?     He  thought  me 
here,  it  seems,    in   the  way  of  those  writers,  who   are 
quoting  authorities,  when  they  should  be  giving  argu 
ments.     Hence,  he  calls  the  answer  the  Jews  here  gave, 
&joolish  one :  as  if  I  stood  sponsor  for  its  orthodoxy. 
*  St.  John  iii.  3. 

But 


Remark  6.]   OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.    367 

But  our  Examiner  is  still  farther  mistaken.  The  point 
I  was  upon,  in  support  of  which  I  urged  the  answer  of 
the  Jews,  was  not  the  seeing  this,  or  that  person:  but 
the  seeing  corporeally,  and  not  mentally.  Now,  if  tl)e 
Jews  understood  Jesus,  as  saying  that  Abraham  saw 
corporeally,  I  concluded,  that  the  expression,  used  by 
Jesus,  had  that  import :  and  this  was  all  I  was  concerned 
to  prove.  Difference,  therefore,  between  their  answer  as 
I  quoted  it,  and  my  interpretation,  there  was  none. 
Their  answer  implied  that  Abraham  was  said  to  see 
corporeally;  and  my  interpretation  supposes  that  the 
words  used  had  that  import.  But  to  make  a  distinction 
where  there  was  no  difference,  seeing  in  person,  and  seeing 
by  representation,  are  brought  in,  into  a  question,  where 
they  have  nothing  to  do. 

VI.  Our  Examiner,  after  all  these  feats,  now  stops 
and  looks  about  him ;  as  waiting  modestly  for  his  reader's 
approbation  and  applause  ;  and  to  shew  how  well  he 
deserves  it,  purposes,  out  of  pure  love  of  justice,  to 
resume  his  task,  and  kill  me  over  again.  "  To  do  you 
"  full  justice .( says  he)  I  will  take  in  one  observation 
"  more,  by  which,  you  have  endeavoured  to  strengthen 
"  yourself,  and  which  relates  to  the  former  part  of  the 
"  text.  That  Abraham  had  a  general  promise,  that  m 
"  him  all  the  families  of  the  earth  should  be  blessed, 
"  which  general  promise  comprehends  or  contains  the 
"  promise  of  the  redemption,  is  agreed  between  us. 
"  And  this  general  promise,  I  suppose,  might  be  the 
"  subject  of  the  patriarch's  joy.  You  (in  favour  of  vour 
u  hypothesis)  suppose,  that,  subsequent  to  this  general 
"  promise,  Abraham  had,  upon  his  earnest  request,, 
"  some  special  promise  made  to  him  of  a  more  distinct 
"  communication  of  the  manner  how,  and  the  means  by 
"  which  this  great  work  should  be  accomplished ;  and 
"  that  this  special  promise  was  the  matter  of  his  rejoicing. 
"  This  history  of  Abraham  (say  you)  had  plainly  three 
"  distinct  periods.  The  first  contains  God's  promise  to 
"  grant  his  request,  when  Abraham  rejoiced  that  he 
"  SHOULD  SEE- — Within  the  second,  was  the  delivery  of 
"the  command  to  sacrifice  his  son — And  Abraham's 
"  obedience,  through  which  he  SAW  Christ's  day  and  was 

"glad, 


368  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I L 

"  glad,  includes  the  third.  -  The  promise,  which  you  say 
"  God  made  to  Abraham  to  grant  his  request,  cannot  be 
"  the  general  promise,  that  he  should  be  a  blessing  to  all 
"  nations ;  for  this  was  given  upon  his  first  vocation 
"  without  his  request,  Therefore  it  must  be  a  special 
"  subsequent  promise.  But  there  is  not  one  word  in  the 
"  history  of  the  Old  Testament  to  justify  this  three-fold 
w  distinction  ;  as  you  confess  yourself.  For  you  say  that 
"  Moses  $  history  begins  with  the  second  period  ;  and 
"  that  the  first  was  wisely  omitted  by  the  historian.  If 
"  there  never  was  any  such  period,  never  any  such  special 
"  promise  requested  or  made;  it  was  very  honest  in  the 
"  historian  to  say  nothing  about  it:  and  YOU  WILL  BE 

"  THE  WISE  MAN,  WHO  CAN  SEE  WHAT  IS  NOT  TO  BE 
"  FOUND."  pp.  141,  142. 

"  The  general  promise  made  to  Abraham,  that  in  him 
"  all  the  families  of  the  earth  should  be  blessed,  it  is 
"  agreed  (lie  tells  us)  comprehends  the  promise  of  the 
"  redemption  :  and  this  general  promise,  he  supposes, 
"  might  be  the  subject  of  the  patriarch's  joy,"  mentioned 
by  Jesus,  in  the  text  in  question.  Which  observation, 
he  is  so  fond  of,  that  he  repeats  it  again  in  p.  145. 
"  Abraham,  seeing  a  redemption  to  come  through  his 
"  seed,  REJOICED  at  the  blessing."  But  now,  if  Abra 
ham  was  ignorant  that  this  general  promise  comprehended 
in  it  the  promise  of  redemption,  how  could  that  redemp 
tion  be  the  subject  (f  the  patriarch* s  joy?  That  he  was 
ignorant,  I  prove  from  the  best  authority  with  our 
Examiner ;  I  mean  his  own.  This  general  promise,  as 
a  prophesy  of  the  Messiah  or  Redeemer,  is  agreed  on  all 
hands,  to  be  obscure.  Now  our  Examiner  has  laid  it 
down  as  a  maxim,  that  "  so  far  as  prophecy  is  obscure 
"  (and  it  is  in  the  nature  of  prophecy  to  be  obscure  more 
"  or  less)  so  far  it  was  obscure  to  the  prophets  them- 
"  selves."  p.  156.  This,  in  satisfaction  to  himself.  But 
in  satisfaction  to  his  reader,  1  go  further  ;  and  shew,  that 
the  general  promise,  mentioned  by  Moses,  could  not  be 
the  occasion  of  the  patriarch's  joy,  mentioned  by  Jesus ; 
even  on  our  Examiner's  own  contradictory  conception  of 
things.  I  will  suppose,  for  once,  that  Abraham  did 
understand,  that,  in  the  general  promise,  tvas  contained 
a  promise  of  redemption.  But  will  he -say  the  time,  too, 

was 


Remark  6.]   OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.    369 

was  contained  in  it  ?    Now  he  owns,  that  the  occasion  of 
Abrahams  joy  was  the  knowledge  of  the  TIME  when 
Christ  should   come.     "  The  day  of  Christ  (says  lie) 
"denotes  the  time  when  Christ  should  come/'  p.  139. 
I  conclude,  therefore,  from  his  own  words,   that  "  the 
"  subject  of  the  patriarch's  joy  COULD    NOT    be    this 
"  general  promise."    And,  by  this  conclusion,  expose  the 
injustice  of  his  following  remark,  that  it  "  was  in  favour 
"  of  my  HYPOTHESIS  that  I  supposed  there  was  a  special 
"  promise  made  to  Abraham  at  his  earnest  request,  sub- 
"  sequent  to  the  general  one.1'     If  it  was  in  favour  of 
any  thing  but  truth,  it  was  in  favour  of  common-sense, 
which  always  leads  to  it.     And  which  pointed  out  to  me 
the  three  periods  I  discovered  in  this  special  promise. 
"  But  (he  tells  me)  there  is  not  one  word,  in  the  history 
"  of  the  Old  Testament,  to  justify  this  threefold  distinc- 
"  tion."     And  that  I  myself  CONFESS  as  much.     It  is 
true,  that  I  confess  not  to  find  in  the  Old  Testament 
what  is  not  there.     And  had  the  like  modesty  been  in 
him,  he  would  have  been  content  to  have  found  a  fat  art 
state  in  the  New  Testament  only.     But  where  is  it,  I 
would  ask,  that,  "  I  confess  there  is   not  one  word,  in 
"  the  history  of  the  Old  Testament,  to  justify  this  three- 
"  fold  distinction  ? "     For  this  is  news.     So  far  was  I 
from  any  thoughts  of  such  confession,  that  I  gave  a  large 
critical  epitome*  of  Abrahams  whole  history,   to  shew 
that  it  justified  this  threefold  distinction,  in  every  part  of 
it.     But  his  manner  of  proving  my  confession,  will  clearly 
convict  him  of  the  falsehood  of  his  charge.    For,  instead 
of  doing  it  from  my  own  words,  he  will  argue  me  into  it 
from  his  own  inferences.    "  You  confess  it  (says  he)  FOR 
"  you  say,  that  Moses  s  history  begins  with  the  second 
:<  period,    and  that  the  first  was  wisely  omitted  by  the 
"  historian."     See,  here,  the  perversity  of  our  Examiner  1 
When  the  point  is  a  question  of  right*  he  gives  his  reader 
an  authority :  when  a  question  of  fact,  a  reason.     But 
what  sort  of  reason  let  us  now  see,  by  applying  it  to  a 
parallel  case.     I  will  suppose  him  to  tell  me,  (for,  after 
this,  he  may  tell  me  any  thing)  "  that  I  myself  confess 
'•  there  is  not  one  word  in  the' Iliad  of  Homer,  to  justify 
"  the  being  three  periods  in  the  destruction  of  Troy, 

*  From  p.  10  to  15,  of  The  Ditine  Legation,  vol.  vi. 

VOL.  XL  Be  "  (the 


370  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  It 

u  (the  first  the  robbery  of  Helen;  the  second,  the  com- 
"  bats  before  the  town ;  and  the  third,  the  storming  of  it 
"  by  the  Greeks)  for  that  I  say,  that  Homers  poem 
;'  begins  at  the  second  period  ;  wisely  omitting  the  first 
"  and  last."  Now  will  arry  one  conclude,  from  this 
reason,  that  I  had  made  that  confession  ?—  He  is  so  far 
from  owning  that  I  had  given  any  reasons  (though  I  had 
given  many)  of  Moses's  wisdom  in  omitting  the  mention- 
of  the  first  period,  that  his  following  words,  rf  they  have 
any  meaning,  insinuate  I  had  given  none,  "If  there 
"  never  was  any  such  period  ;  it  was  very  honest  in  the 
"  historian  to  say  nothing  about  it."  The  reader  sees,  I 
querstion  his  having  a  meaning ;  and  my  reason  is,  because, 
1  find,  it  was  to  introduce  a  piece  of  wit.  For,  as  the 
town-poet  frequently  compounds  for  the  rhime,  with  one 
half  of  his  distieh  ;;  so  the  town-prose-man  for  the  wit, 
with  one  half  of  his  sentence.- — "  And  you  (saijs  he; 
tk  will  be  the  WISE  MAN  who  can  see  what  is  not  to  be 
tc  found."  Now  the  two  members  of  his  wit  do  not 
agree. — "  It  was  very  honest  in  the  historian — and  you 
"  will  be  the  wise  man." — The  careless  reader  may  think 
he  only  meantf,  here,  to  call  me  fool.  But,  indeed,  it  was 
my  knavery  that  was  to  stand  in  opposition  to  Moses* 
honesty.  This,  therefore,,  is  to  be  considered  as  one  of 
those  disguised  sentences,  which  the  critics  so  much  admire 
in  the  works  of  the  greatest  writers.  However,  I  here 
call  upon  him  first  to  prove  that  I  did  confess  what  he 
charges  upon  me,  in  pain  of  being  deemed  a  false 
accuser.— And  this  for  the  jHrgt  %i\\\t. 

VII.  He  proceeds — "  But  what  is  wanting  In  history, 
"  it  seems,  criticism  is  to  supply.  The  words  in  the 
"  original  are,  flyaAAiaVold  INA  IAH ;  i.  c.  (say  you)  l:c 
u  rejoiced  that  HE  LI  i  GUT  SEE;  which  implies  that  the 
''•period  of  this  joy  was  in  the  space  between  the  promise 
"  that  the  favour  should  be  conferred,  and  the  actual 
"  conferring  it,  in  the  delivery  of  the  command. — Tht 
'  English  phrase,  to  see,  is  equivocal;  and  means  either 
:i  the  present  time,  that  he  did  then  see  ;  or  the  future, 
61  that  he  should  see.  But  the  original  *W  1%  has  only  the 
"  latter  sense:  so  that  the  text  plainly  distinguishes  two 
"  different  periods  of  joy ;  thejirst,  when  it  was  promised 

"he 


Remark;.]   OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.   371 

"  he  should  see;  the  second,  when  he  actually  saw  :  and 
"  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  in  the  e.iact  use  of  the  KWY/, 
u  ayaAAtao^at  signifies  that  tumultuous  pleasure  whic/i 
"  the  certain  expectation  of  an  approaching  blessing, 
"  understood  only  in  the  gross,  occasions;  and  %<*fpu  that 
<c  calm  and  settled  jot/,  that  arises  from  our  knowledge  in 
"  the  possession  of  it.  Where  are  your  authorities  for  all 
"  tliis  ?  You  produce  none.  Wherever  you  had  your 
"  Greek,  I  am  very  sure  you  had  it  not  from  the  New 
"  Testament,  where  these  words  are  used  indiscrimi- 
"  nately."  pp.  142,  143. — "Where  are  your  authorities? 
"  You  produce  none."  No.  I  wrote  to  those  who  under 
stood  their  grammar,  and  read  Greek :  and  such  want 
none  in  a  case  so  clear  and  notorious.  But  this  is  to 
insinuate,  that  I  had  none  to  produce.  He  dare  not, 
indeed,  say  so.  And  in  this  I  commend  his  prudence, 
as  he  knew  nothing  of  the  matter.  However,  in  this,  he 
is  positive,  that  "  wherever  I  had  my  Greek,  I  had  it  not 
<c  from  the  New  Testament."  The  gentleman  is  hard  to 
please:  here  he  is  offended  that  I  had  it  not;  and, 
before,  that  I  had  it  from  the  New  Testament.  Here  I 
impose  upon  him  ;  there  I  trifled  with  him.  But,  in  all 
this  diversity  of  acceptance,  'tis  still  the  same  spirit ;  of 
an  answerer  by  profession. 

I  had  said,  the  two  Greek  words,  in  their  exact  me, 
signify  so  and  so.  Which  surely  implied  an  acknow 
ledgment,  that  this  exactness  was  not,  always,  kept  up 
to;  especially  by  the  writers  of  the  New  Testament'., 
who,  whatever  some  may  have  dream'd,  did  not  pique 
themselves  upon  a  classical  elegance.  Now,  this  impli 
cation,  our  Examiner  takes  upon  him  to  confirm,  but  by 
way  of  confutation.  "  In  the  New  Testament  (says  he) 
"  these  words  are  used  indiscriminately."  I  had  plainly 
insinuated  the  same;  and  he  had  better  have  let  it  rest 
on  my  acknowledgment :  for  the  instances  he  brings,  to 
prove  the  words  used  indiscriminate ly  in  the  New  Testa 
ment,  are  even  enough  to  persuade  the  reader  that  they 
are  not.  His  first  instance  is,  i  Pet.iv.  13.  "  Rejoice 
"  [xai/P*'£]  inasmuch  as  ye  are  partakers  of  Christ's  suf- 
"fer ings',  that  when  his  glory  shall  be  revealed  [^fin 
"  afaAAiw^fvot]  ye  may  be  glad  with  exceeding  joy.  See 
"  you  not  here  (says  he)  the,  direct  reverse  of  what  you 

B  R  2  "  say; 


37*  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  Hi 

"  say;  that  xai/Pw  signifies  the  joy  which  arises  upoir 
"  prospect,  and  oiyzXXiaoptxi  that  which  arises  from 
"  possession."  p.  143.  No  indeed.  I  see  nothing  like 
it.  All  the  reverse  here,  is  the  reverse  of  common  sense. 
Yet  in  that  reverse,  (a  feat  none  but  himself  could  have 
brought  about)  the  confirmation  of  my  own  remark. — • 
Amazing !  The  followers  of  Christ  are  bid  to  rejoice ± 
X&^clE.  For  what  ?  For  being  partaker*  of  Christ's 
sufferings.  And  was  not  this  a  blessing  in  'possession  ? 
But  some  divines,  it  seems,  have  no  notion  how  suffering 
can  be  a  blessing.  Yet  St.  Paul  reckons  the  fellowship 
of  Christ's  sufferings  amongst  the  great  privileges  of  the 
Gospel,  such  as  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ 
and  the  poire r  of  his  resurrection*.  And  St.  John  cou 
ples  it  with  Christ's  kingdom  f — the  kingdom  and  patience 
tjf  Jesus  Christ.  And  how  great  a  blessing  St.  Peter 
(in  the  Examiner's  text)  esteemed  it,  appears  by  what 
follow:;, — that  when  his  glory  shall  be  revealed,  y&pnTs 
ayaAAi^aaot,  ye  may  be  glad  with  exceeding  joy*  But  I* 
have  other  business  with  these  last  words.  For  as  he 
quoted  the  foregoing,  to  prove  that  •xp.lg*  signifies  the  joy 
which  arises  upon  prospect  ;•  so  he  quotes  these  to  prove 
that  cfyaAAiao^at  signifies  that  which  arises  on  possession. 
And  with  equal  success.  They  are  bid  to  rejoice  now  in 
sufferings,  that  they  might  rejoice  and  be  exceeding  glad 
at  Christ's  second  coming.  And  is  this  a  rejoicing  at  a 
good  in  possession  ?  Is  it  not  for  a  good  in  prospect  ? 
The  reward  they  were  going  to  receive.  For  I  suppose 
the  appearance  of  Christ's  glory  will  precede  the  reward 
of  his  followers.  Unless  our  Examiner  has  another 
mystery  to  shew  us,  which  St.  Paid  left  untoldy  That  the 
reward  is  to  come  first,  aad  the  glory  follow.  So  that 
now  the  reader  sees  he  has  himself  fairly  proved,  by  a 
good  substantial  text,  the  truth  of  my  observation,  2 hat 
in  the  exact  use  of  the  words,  ayaxWo/xa*  signifies  tluit 
tumultuous  pleasure  which  the  certain  expectation  of  an 
approaching  blessing  occasions?  and  xxfpu  that  c.alm  and 
settled  joy  that  arises  from  our  knowledge  in  the  possession 
of  it. 

His  other  instances  are,  Rev.  xix.  7,     lc  Let  us  be  glad 
"  and  rejoice  [^a/jp&yxfv  >$  dyK\\MpAoi\— for  the  marriage 
*  Phil.  hi.  8— 10,  f  Rev.i.9. 


Remark  7.]   OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.    373 

'"  of  the  Lamb  is  come.     Where   both  words  refer  to 
*c  blessings  in  possession.     Again,  Matt.  v.  12.  Rejoice 
"  and  be  exceeding  glad  [x«*i»&  *?  ayaAAiao-0*]  for  great 
4i  is  your  reward  in  Heaven  :  where  both  refer  to  bless- 
"ings  in  prospect."  pp.  143,  144.     His  villainous  old 
luck  still  pursues  him.     The  first  text  from  the  Revela- 
1 ions-,  Be  glad  and  rejoice,  FOR  the  marriage  of  the  Lamb 
is  come-,  bids  the  followers  of  Chr  st  now  do  that,  which 
they  were  bid  to  prepare  for  in  the  words  of  St.  Peter, 
that,  when  his  glory  shall  be  revealed,  ye  may  be  glad 
with  exceeding  joy.     If,  therefore,  where  they  are  bid  to 
prepare  for  their  rejoicing,  the  joy  is  for  a  good  in  pros 
pect  (as  we  have  proved  it  was),   then,  certainly,  where 
they  are  told  that  this  time  of  rejoicing  is  come,  the  joy 
must  still  be  for  a  good  in  prospect.     And  yet  he  says, 
•the  words  refer  to  blessings  in  possession.     Again,  the 
text  from  St.  Matthew — Rejoice,  and  be  exceeding  glad, 
FOR  great  is  your  reward  in  Heaven,  has  the   same 
relation  to  the  former  part  of  St.  Pt'ter^  words,  [Rejoice 
inasmuch  as  ye  are  partakers  of  Christ's  sufferings}  as 
•the  text,  in  the  Revelations,  has  to  the  latter.     Blessed 
tire  ye  (says  Jesus  in  this  Gospel)  when  men  shall  revile 
you  and  persecute  you,  and  s-hall  say  all  manner  of  evil 
•against  you  falsely  for  my  sake.  Rejoice,  and  be  exceeding 
glad,  FOR  great  is  your  reward  in  Heaven.     Rejoice ! 
For  what  ?     Is  it  not  for  the  persecutions  they  suffer  for 
-his  sake  ?     A  present  blessing  sure ;  though  not,  it  may 
'be,  to  our  Author's  taste.     The  reason  why  they  should 
rejoice,  follows,  for  great  is  your  reward  in  "Heaven. 
And  yet  here,  he  says,  the  words  refer  to  blessings  in 
prospect.     In  truth  what  led  him  into  all  these  cross 
purpose*,   of  reasoning,  was  a  very  pleasant  mistake. 
The  one  text  says — Be  glad  and  rejoice,  FOR  o-n — The 
•other,  Rejoice,  and -be  exceeding  glad,  FOR  on — Now  he 
vtook  the  particle,  jn  both  places,  to  signify  propter,  for 
4 he  sake  of\  whereas  it  signifies,  quoniam,  quia,  and  is,  in 
proof  of  something  going  before.     So  that  he  read  the 
itext — Rejoice,  for^the  marriage  of  .the  Lamb  is  come',— 
as  if  it;had  been — Rejoice  J  or  the  marriage  of  the  Lamb, 
which  is  come:  and — rejoice,  for  great  is  your  reward 
in  Heaven  ;  as  if  it  had  been, — Rejoice  for  your  great 
reward  in  Heaven. 

BB  ,3 


374  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

But  now  let  us  consider  all  these  texts  in  another  view, 
in  order  to  do  justice  to  his  delicacy  of  judgment.  I 
had  said  that,  in  the  exact  use  of  the  two  Greek  words, 
they  signified  so  and  so  ;  and  applied  that  observation  to 
a  fact ;  where  a  person  was  mid  to  have  rejoiced,  $c. 
In  order  to  disprove  this  criticism,  he  brings  three  pas 
sages,  in  which  those  Greek  words  are  used,  where  no 
fact  is  related ;  but  where  men  are,  in  a  rhetorical  man 
ner,  called  upon,  and  bid  to  rejoice,  8$c.  In  which  case, 
the  use  of  one  word  for  another,  is  an  elegant  conversion. 
Those,  in  possession  of  a  blessing,  are  bid  to  rejoice  with 
that  exceeding  joy,  which  men  generally  have  in  the 
certain  expectation  of  one  approaching;  and  those  in 
expectation,  with  that  calm  and  settled  joy,  that  attends 
tull  possession.  And  now  who  but  our  Examiner  would 
not  see  that  all  his  instances  fall  short  and  wide  of  the 
point  in  question  :  the  use  of  words  being  one  thing,  in  an 
historical  assertion ;  and  another  in  a  rhetorical  invocation  *  ? 

VIII.  However,  having  so  ably  acquitted  himself  of 
one  criticism,  he  falls  upon  another.  i(  But  what  then 
4;  (says  he)  shall  we  do  with  'iv»?  To  rejoice  that  he 
"might  see  the  blessing  which  he  already  had',  in  the 
"  English  language,  is  not  sense.  I  grant  it.  And 
"  therefore  our  translators  avoid  it,  and  render  the 
"  passage  thus;  Abraham  rejoiced  TO  SEE  my  day  ;  which 
"  rendering  will  very  well  stand  with  the  Greek ;  where 
"  lfv»  is  often  put  for  ors  or  cm ;  POSITIVE  AS  you 

"  ARE  THAT  IT  ALWAYS   REFERS  TO  A  FUTURE  TIME." 
p.  144. 

'  What  shall  we  do  with  1W  ?"— What  indeed  !  But 
no  sooner  said  than  done.  He  fathers  it  upon  me.  And 
having  stript  it  of  all  its  relations,  will  needs  make  me 
maintain  it.  "  "Im  (says  he)  is  often  put  for  ore  or  on, 
"  positive  as  you  are,  that  it  always  refers  to  a  future 
"  time."  p.  144.  Now,  so  far  from  being  positive  of 
this,  I  positively  deny  that  I  ever  so  much  as  gave  the 
least  hint  of  such  a  thing.  And  here  I  again  call 
upon  him  to  prove  it,  as  he  values  his  character  of  an 
answerer  by  profession-,  and  this  for  the  ^CCOlttl 

*  See  what  the  Letter  Writer,  quoted  above,  has  taid  concerning 
the  use  of  these  two  Greek  verbs,  pp.6'2  to  65,  with  much  learning 
and  judgment. 


Hem.  8. 9.]    OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.    375 

S£ime  *.  I  said,  indeed,  that  *W  %,  in  the  text  refers 
only  to  a  future  time.  And  this  I  say  still,  though  the 
translators  have  rendered  it,  equivocally,  to  see ;  whether 
for  the  reason  assigned  by  me,  or  my  Examiner,  is  left 
to  the  judgment  of  the  reader.  Yet  he  affirms,  that 
I  say,  u  *W  always  refers  to  a  future  time."  That 
I  am  positive  of  it,  nay  very  positive,  "  positive  as 
•"  you  are/'  says  he.  And  to  cure  me  of  this  fault, 
he  proceeds  to  shew,  from  several  texts,  that  <W  is  often 
put  for  ors  or  on.  "  Thus  Johnxvi.  2.  The  time  cometh, 
"  THAT  [IW]  whosoever  killeth  you,  will  think  that  he 
"doth  God  service.  Again:  \  Cor.  iv.  3.  With  me  it 
"  is  a  small  thing  THAT  [*W]  /  should  be  judged  of  you. 
"  And  nearer  to  the  point  yet,  3  John  4.  /  have  no 
*'  greater  joy  [IW  ax»»]  than  THAT  I  hear,  or  than  TO 
"  hear  that  my  children  walk  in  the  truth.  And  why 
*'  not  here,  Sir;  Abraham  rejoiced  [<W  uT»j]  WHEN  he  saw, 
"  or,  THAT  he  saw,  or,  which  is  equivalent,  TO  SEE  my 
"day."  p.  144.  In  acknowledgment  of  which  kindness, 
all  I  can  do  is,  to  return  him  back  his  own  criticism ; 
only  with  the  Greek  words  put  into  Latin.  The  trans 
lator  of  the  vulgar  Latin  has  rendered  *W  'ify  by  ui 
videret,  which  words  I  will  suppose  him  to  say  (as  indif 
ferent  a  Latimst  as  he  appears  to  have  been)  refer  only 
to  a  future  time.  On  which  I  will  be  very  arch  and 
critical ;  Positive  ax  you  are,  Sir,  that  ut  always  refers 
to  a  future  time,  /  will  shew  you  that  it  is  sometimes  put 
Jbr  postquarn,  the  past, 

Ut  vidi,  ut  perii,  ut  me  malus  abstulit  error ! 

and,  nearer  to  the  point  yet,  sometimes  for  quanto,— Ut 
quisque  optime  Grace  sciret,  ita  esse  nequissimum. 
"  And  why  not  here,  Sir,  Abraham  rejoiced  [ut  videret] 
:i  WHEN  HE  saw,  or  THAT  he  saw,  or,  which  is  equiva- 
"  lent,  TO  SEE  my  day." 

IX.  And  now  he  tells  us,  "  There  is  but  one  difficulty 
"  that  stands  in  the  way."  And  what  is  one  to  a  man 

*  Here  the  learned  writer  above  mentioned  is  justly  scandalized 
at  his  man.  "  Pray,  Sir,  (says  he)  what  authority  have  you  for 
"  this,  that  Mr.  IV.  is  positive Vva  always  refers  to  a  future  time?— 
"  What  he  saith  is,  that »W .  Jf^  in  the  text  signifies  the  future  time: 
"and  this,  Sir,  it  does,  and  needs  must,  for  abundance  of  reasons." 
— p.  59- 

B  B  4 


376  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II, 

who  can  surmount  them  with  the  same  ease  he  makes 
them?  The  difficulty  is  this  ; — "  That  according  to  his 
"  \the  Examiners]  interpretation,  tlie  latter  part  of  the 
"  sentence  is  a  repetition  of  the  former.  Abraham  re- 
"  joked  to  see  my  day,  and  he  saw  it  and  was  glad;  i.  e. 
"  Abraham  rejoiced  to  see,  ami  then  saw  and  rejoiced. 
"  But  sucli  kind  of  repetitions  are  frequent  in  the  sacred 
"  dialect;  and,  in  my  humble  opinion,  it  has  an  elegance 
"  here ;  Abraham  rejoiced  to  see  my  day  ;  xj  £?&,  *J  «x«f »?, 
"  HE  BOTH  SAW  and  WAS  GLAD."  pp.  144,  445- 

I  had  talked  much  of  repetitions  in  the  sacred  style ; 
and  he  will  do  so  too ;  but  without  knowing  the  difference 
between  a  pleonasm  and  a  tautology ;  the  first  of  which 
is,  indeed,  often  a  beauty  ;  the  other,  always  a  blemish 
in  expression  :  and  in  this  number  is  the  elegant  repeti 
tion  of  our  Examiner's  own  making.     But,  for  the  reader's 
better  information,   I  shall  transcribe  what  I  said  on  this 
subject  in   The  Divine  Legation.     The  Pleonasm  evi 
dently  arose  from  the  narrowness  of  a  simple  language: 
The  Hebrew,  in  which  this  figure  abounds,  is  the  scantiest 
of  all  the  learned  languages  of  the  East:  Amant  (says 
(Ji  otius)  Hebraei  verborum  copiam ;  itaque  rem  eandem 
multis  vrerbis  exprimunt.    He  does  not  tell  us  the  reason ; 
but  we  have  given  it  above,  and  it  seems  a  very  natural 
one:  for  when  the  speakers  phrase  comes  not  up  to  his 
ideas  (as  in  a  scanty  language  it  often  will  not)  he  endea 
vours,  of  course,  to  explain  himself  by  a  repetition  of  the 
thought  in  other  words ;  as  he,  whose  body  is  straiten  d 
in  room,  is  always  dissatisfied  with  his  present  posture*. 
A  repetition   of  this   kind,  made  in   different  words,  is 
called  a  pleonasm :  but  when  in  the  same  words,  (as  it  is 
in  the  text  in  question,  if  there  be  any  repetition  at  all) 
it  is  then  a  tautology  ;  which,  being  without  reason,  our 
Examiner  will  iind   a  beauty  in  it.     "  In  my  humble 
"  opinion  (says  he)  it  has  an  elegance."     This  is  not  ill 
expressed.     Humility  of  opinion  well  becomes  him  who 
begs  his  question;  and  still  better,  him  who  is  about  to 
steal  it ;  which  we  shall  see  under  the  next  Remark,  he 
was  just  now  projecting — But  the  only  pretence  to  e/o 
gancCy  nay  even  to  sense,  in  his  translation  of  the  text, 
arises  from  our  being  able  to  understand  the  equivocal 
*  Sue  Div.  Leg.  vol.  iv«  p.  170. 

phrase 


Remark  io.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  377 

phrase  to  see  in  my  meaning  of,  that  he  might  sec;  as 
will  appear  to  the  reader,  by  confining  it  to  the  Ex 
aminer's  meaning ;  thus,  Abraham  rejoiced  when  he  had 
seen  my  day,  and  he  saw  it  and  was  glad.  The  absurdity 
of  which  expression  arises  from  hence,  that  the  latter 
part  of  the  sentence,  beginning  with  the  conjunction 
completive,  *J,  naturally  implies  a  further  predication. 
Yet  there  is  no  further.  But  our  Examiner,  willing  to 
avoid  so  glaring  an  absurdity,  artfully  drops  the  sense  of 
^  in  the  sound  of  BOTH.  I  call  it  the  sound,  for  sense 
there  is  none.  Abraham  rejoiced  to  see  my  day,  he  both 
saw  and  was  glad,  says  our  elegant  translator.  As  if, 
when  he  rejoiced  to  see,  there  could  be  any  doubt  whether 
he  did  not  BOTH  see  and  rejoice.  Therefore  I  should 
advise  him  not  to  despise  the  assistance  the  learned  Letter- 
writer  gives  him,  who  tells  him  here,  that  the  best  sense, 
he  will  ever  be  able  to  make  of  it,  will  be  this,  Abraham 
rejoiced  to  see  my  day,  aye,  that  lie  did*.  But  then  as 
for  the  elegance  of  it,  he  must  look  to  that  himself. 

X.  Having  now  so  happily  got  through  his  criticism 
on  my  text,,  he  draws  one  concluding  argument;  with 
which  he  runs  a  muck  at  my  whole  dissertation.  "  I  sup- 
"  pose,  Sir,  it  may  now  be  granted  that  it  is  not  clear 
"  from  these  words  of  our  Saviour ;  that  Abraham  had 
"  any  such  notice  of  Christ's  sacrifice  as  you  contend 
"  for. — Here  THEN,  Sir,  your  argument  must  necessarily 
"  have  its  period.  For  this  text  stands  as  the  FOUNDA-* 
"  TION  of  all  that  follows."  p.  14.5.  Fair  and  softly, 
good  Sir,  for,  (though  your  argument  be  already  an 
swered,  in  a  confutation  of  your  premisses)  I  would  not 
have  you  run  away  with  the  opinion  that  there  is  any 
relation  between  them  and  your  conclusion ;  further  than 
what  arises  from  an  equivocation,  which  is  a  very  bad 
bond  of  connexion.  The  word  FOUNDATION,  when 
applied,  figuratively,  to  a  thesis,  signifies  either  the  support 
of  it ;  or  the  orderly  introduction  to  it.  That  I  used  it 
in  the  latter  sense,  appears,  not  only  from  the  nature  of 
the  thing,  but  from  my  own  express  words,  in  the  very 
place  where  I  speak  of  tins  foundation.  The  foundation 
of 'my  thesis  I  lay  in  that  Scripture  of  St.  John,  where 
Jesus  says  to  the  unbelieving  Jews,  Your  father  Abraham 
*  Letter  to  the  Author  of  a  late  Epist.  Diss.  p.  66. 

rejoiced 


3?S  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  IL 

rejoiced  to  see  my  day,  and  he  saw  it  and  was  glad. 
If  we  consider  Abraham's  personal  character,  together 
with  the  choice  mack  of  him  for  head  ami  origin  rf  that 
people  which  God  "would  make  holy  and  separate  to  himself, 
from  ichence  was  to  rise  the  Redeemer  of  Mankind,  the 
ultimate  end  of  that  separation,  WE  CANNOT  BUT  CON 
CLUDE  IT  PROBABLE  that  the  knowledge  of  this  Re- 
deemer  should  be  revealed  to  him.  Shall  I  hide  from 
Abraham  the  thing  which  I  do,  says  God,  in  a  matter 
that  much  less  concerned  the  Father  of  the  Faithful. 
And  here,  in  the  words  of  Jesus,  we  have  this  PROBABLE 

FACT,    ARISING    FROM    THE    NATURE    OF    THE    THING, 

made  certain  and  put  out  of  ail  reasonable  question  *.'* 
Here  the  reader  sees  that  I  use  the  words  of  Jesus  which 
I  call  the  foundation,  as  the  orderly  introduction  to  and 
confirmation  only  of  a  thesis  which  I  call  probable,  and 
prove  by  other  media.  And  as  I  shew,  both  from  the 
words  of  Jesus,  and  the  nature  of  the  thing,  that  Abra 
ham  saw  Christ's  day :  so,  from  both,  I  prove  that  this 
truth  must  be  recorded  somewhere  or  other  in  the  Old 
Testament  From  thence  I  proceed  to  the  proof  of 
these  two  points,  "  i.  That  there  is  no  place  in  the  whole 
"  history  of  Abraham,  but  that  where  he  is  commanded 
"  to  oiler  up  his  son,  which  bears  the  least  marks  or 
."  traces  of  the  revelation  of  Christ's  day.  2.  That  this 
"  command  has  all  the  marks  of  it,  and  is,  indeed,  that 
"  very  revelation  f ."  In  doing  this,  amongst  the  various 
arguments  employed,  I  shew  that,  at  the  time  of  A  bra- 
•ham,  information  by  action  was  the  most  familiar  mode 
of  conversation  ; — that  the  history  of  the  Command  has 
all  the  marks  of  such  a  conversation ; — that,  if  it  be  not 
so  understood,  the  story  of  Abraham  is  abrupt  and  un 
connected  ; — and  the  history  of  the  Command  attended 
with  insuperable  difficulties.  Yet  for  all  this,  my  Exa 
miner  tells  you,  That  my  thesis  "  must  necessarily  have 
its  period,"  when  he  has  taken  away  the  foundation  in 
my  text  £. 

Tis  true,  he  gives  a  reason  for  this  definitive  sentence, 
which  is  this :  "  That  the  tendency  of  all  that  follows  is 

*   t)iv.  Leg.  vol.vi.  pp.6,  7-  t  Ibid. p.  10. 

%  See  this  point  well  argued  by  the  learned  writer  of  the  Letter 
before-mentioned,  in  which,  from  p.  3  to  12,  be  very  ably  confutes 
the  Examiner's  conclusion, 

10  "  ONLY 


Remark  ii.]   OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  379 

"  ONLY  TO  SHEW  THAT  ADMITTING,  OR  ALLOWING 
"  THAT  ABRAHAM  WAS  ACQUAINTED  WITH  THE 
"  GREAT  SACRIFICE  OF  CHRIST,  that  then  it  is  reason- 
"  able  to  expect  an  account  of  it  in  his  history,"  8$c.  &;c. 
p.  145.  Tlie  reader  observes  from  my  own  words,  in 
The  Divine  Legation,  quoted  above,  that  I  thought  we 
might  from  the  nature  of  the  thing,  expect  an  account  of 
it  in  his  history.  This  is  therefore  the  Cgii'D  Cime 
I  am  obliged  to  call  solemnly  upon  him,  to  shew  that  all 
my  proofs  .of  the  command's  being  the  revelation  of 
Christ 's  day,  rest  upon  "  the  admission  or  allowance 
"  that  Abraham  was  acquainted  with  the  great  sacrifice 
"  of  Christ,  as  it  is  to  be  collected  from  the  te.it  in  St. 
"  John."  The  last  words  I  have  added  ;  and  thereby 
hangs  a  tale.  The  reader  is  now  to  be  let  into  a  secret 
The  Examiner,  in  giving  the  finishing  stroke  to  the  Dis 
sertation  on  the  Case  of  Abraham,  had  reserved,  as  was 
fit,  one  of  the  neatest  tricks  of  his  trade  to  be  played  off 
on  this  occasion.  And  thus  he  does  the  feat.  '*  Your 
"  foundation  (says  he)  is  subverted  ;  therefore  all  that 
"  follows  is  overthrown."  Why  so? — Why  so!  Because 
"  the  tendency  of  all  is  to  shew,  that,  admitting  or  allow- 
"  ing  that  Abraham  was  acquainted — then  it  is  reasonable 
"  to  expect" — Well,  but  may  it  not  be  admitted  or 
allowed,  from  other  arguments  produced  in  The  Divine 
Legation  besides  the  text  in  question,  that  Abraham  was 
acquainted  with  the  great  sacrifice  of  Christ?  Your 
humble  servant,  Sir,  says  he,  for  that.  The  force  of  my 
consequence  depends  upon  the  honest  reader's  taking  it, 
as  I  design  he  should ;  that  it  could  only  be  admitted  or 
allowed  from  the  text  in  question  :  for  if  once  he  conceives 
that  it  might  be  allowed  from  other  arguments  in  The 
Divine  Legation,  there  is  an  end  of  my  consequence; 
and  yet  you  would  put  me  upon  explaining. 

XL  However,  our  Examiner,  as  if  not  quite  satisfied 
himself,  with  this  period  he  hath  put  to  my  argument,  goes 
on  thus  :  "  But  to  make  good  the  defect  in  this  conse- 
"  quential  reasoning,  you  offer  at  one  direct  proof,  to 
"  shew  that  the  command,  and  the  transaction  consequent 
"  upon  it,  was  indeed  as  a  representative  information  to 
4t  Abraham  of  the  redemption  of  mankind,  by  the  sacri- 
"  fice  of  Christ  j  which  is,  That  the  author  of  the  epistle 

"to 


REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

?  to  the  Hebrtxi'-s  has  plainly  hinted  that  he  considered 
'  it  in  this  light.  Your  proof  is  from  these  wards, 
".chap,  xi.  17 — 19.  By  faith,  Abraham  offered  up 
"  Isaac — accounting  that  God  was  able  to  raise  him  from 
+'  the  dead\  from,  whence  also  he  rcccivc-dhim  in  a  figure, 
4  EN  nAPABOAH)  in  a  parable  :  A  incde  of  information 
'  by  words  or  actions,  which  consists  in  putting  one  -thing 
"for  another.  Now  in  a  writer  (say  you)  who  re- 
11  gankd  this  commanded  action,  as  a  representative 
"  information  of  the  redemption  of  mankind,  nothing 
'*  could  be  more  fine  or  eaxy  than  this  expression.  For 
*4  though  Abraham  did  iwt,  indeed,  receive  Isaac  restored 
'**  to  life  after  a  real  dissolution ;  yet  the  son  being,  in 
*•'  this  action,  to  represent  Christ  MtffMtig  death  for  the 
"  sins  of  the  itorld,  when  the  Father  brought  him  safe 
"from  Mount  Moriah,  after  three  'days,  during  ichicfi 
"  he  ti'YAs-  m  a  state  of  condemnation  to  death;  he  plainly 
<4  received  him  under  the  character  of  Christ's  represen- 
fc<  fa  fire,  as  restored  from  the  dead.  For  as  his  coming 
*'  to  the  Mount,  awl  binding,  a.nd  laying  on  the  altar, 
*'  figured  the  sufferings  and  death  of  Christ ;  so  Jris  being 
4i  taken  from  thence  alice,  as  properly  figured  Christ's 
"  remrrection  from  the  dead.  With  the  highest  pro- 
4i  pricty,  therefore,  -and  elegance  of  speech,  might 
*l  Abraham  be  said  to  receire  Isaac  from  the  dead  in  a 
^  parable,  or  in  representation."  pp.  146,  147. 

Let  as  see  now  what  our  Examiner  has  to  object  to 
this  criticism. — "  By  your  leave,  Sir,"  says  he — which, 
by  the  way,  he  never  asks,  but  to  abuse  me ;  nor  never 
takes,  but  to  misrepresent  me — "  If  the  Apostle  had 
"  meant  by  this  ex  [Cession,  to  signify,  that  Isaac  stood 
"  as  the  representative^  Christ,  and  that  his  being  taken 
"  from  the  Mount  alive  was  the  figure  of  Chrisfs  resur- 
"  rection  ;  it  should  have  been  said,  that  Abraham 
*£  received  CniiivST  from  the  dead  in  a  figure."  p.  147. 
Sec  here,  ye  little  critics  ;  that  Na*,  that  soul  of  criticism -, 
which  licHtley  so  much  lamented  he  could  find  no 
ulierc,  out  of  hioiself.  The  writer  of  the  epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  is  giving  an  instance  of  Abrahams  faith, 
who,  against  hope,  believed  in  hope,  where  his  only  son 
(through  whom  he  was  promised  to  be  the  fatter  of  a 
mighty  nation)  was  commanded  to  be  offered  up  in 

sacrifice. 


Remark  n.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  381 

sacrifice.  In  which  account,  the  sacred  writer  hath  used 
an  expression  which  I  supposed  cloth  intimate  that  he 
understood  the  nature  of  the  command  to  be,  what  I  have 
attempted  to  explain  it.  To  this  our  Examiner  says,  No* 
Had  he  thus  understood  it,  he  SHOULD  have  said,  not 
that  Abraham  received  ISAAC,  but  that  \\e  received 
CHRIST  f mm  the  dead  hi  a  Jigure.  What?  where  tho 
discourse  \vas  not  concerning  Christ,  but  Isaac  ?  Had, 
indeed,  the  sacred  writer  been  speaking  of  Abraham's 
knowledge  of  Christ,  something  might  have  been  said  ; 
but  he  is  speaking  of  a  very  different  thing,  his  faith  In 
God;-  and  onty  intimates,  by  a  forcible  term,  \vhafc  ho 
understood  that  action  to  be,  which  he  gives,  as  an-  in 
stance  of  the  most  illustrious  act  of  laith.  I  say,  had 
this  been  the  case,  stonetking  might  have  been  said ; 
something,  I  mean,  to  keep  him  in  countenance;  yet 
still,  nothing  to  the  purpose,  as  I  shall  now  shew.  The 
transaction  of  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  related  to  God.- 
The  figure  of  that  transaction,  in  the  command  to  offer 
Isaac,  related  (according  to  my  interpretation)  to  Abraham. 
Now,  it  was  God  who  received  Christ :  as  it  \vat> 
Abraham  who  received  Isaac.  To  tell  us  then,  that 
(according  to  my  interpretation)  it  SHOULD  have,  been 
said,  that  Abraham  received  CHRIST  from  the  dead  in  a 
jigure,  is  only  shewing  us  that  he  knows  just  as  much  01 
logical  expression,  as  of  theological  argumentation*.  It 
is  true,  could  he  shew  the  expression  improper,  in  the 
sense  I  understand  it,  he  would  then  speak  more  to  the 
purpose;  and  this,  to. do  him  justice,  he  would  fain  be 
at.  For  thus  it  follows,  u  For  (says  he)  Christ  it  was 
'  (according  to  your  interpretation)  that  was  received 
f  from  the  dead  in  a  figure,  by  Isaac  his  representative, 
"  who  really  came  alive  from  the  Mount,  if  the  read* 
'  ing  had  been,  not  lv  zsrapaSoAjf,  but  *K  wa^aCoA^,  it 
'  would  have  suited  your  notion ;  for  it  might  properly 
'  have  been  said,  that  Isaac  came  alive  from  the  Mount 
"  as  a  figure,  or  that  he  might  be  a  figure,  of  the  resur- 
"  rection  of  Christ!'  p.  147.  Miserable  chicane !  As, 
on  the  one  hand,  I  might  say  with  propriety,  that  CHRIST 
was  received  from  the  dead  in  ajigure,  i.  e.  #y  a  repre- 

*  See  here  again  the  learned  writer  of  the  letter  abov2»raen- 
tioued,  p.  4§. 

tentative: 


382         REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL          [Part  IL 

tentative :  so  could  I  not  as  well  say,  on  the  other,  that 
ISAAC  was  received  from  the  dead  in  a  figure,  i.  e.  AS  a 
representative  ?  For  he,  sustaining  the  person  of  Christ 7- 
\vho  was  raised  from  the  dead,  might  in  a  figure,  i.  e. 
as  tli at  person,  be  said  to  be  received:  yet  this  our 
Examiner  denies,  and  says,  the  Apostle  SHOULD  have 
said  that  Abraham  received  CHRIST,  and  not  ISAAC. 
"  But  (says  he)  if  the  reading  had  been  not  iv  Ilapa^A?, 
"  but  «'$  n<xp<*£oAri/,  it  would  have  suited  YOUR  notion." 
And  the  reason  he  gives  is  this  :  "  For  it  might  properly 
"'  have  been  said  that  Isaac  came  alive  from  the  Mount 
"  as  a  figure,  or  THAT  HE  MIGHT  BE  a  figure,  of  the 
"  resurrection  of  Christ."  Amazing !  he  says  this  would 
have  suited  my  notion ;  and  the  reason  he  gives  shews  it 
suits  only  his  own>  which  is  that  the  exactness  of  the 
resemblance,  not  the  declaration  of  the  giver  of  the  com 
mand,  made  it  a  figure.  This  is  the  more  extraordinary, 
as  I  myself  had  shewn  that  the  old  Latin  translator  had 
fumed  the  words  into  ix  PARABOLAM  instead  of  in 
parabola  for  this  very  reason,  that  he  understood  the 
command  in  the  sense  our  Examiner  contends  for ;  viz. 
That  Isaac,  by  the  resemblance  of  the  actions,  MIGHT 
BE,  or  might  become  a  figure,  §c.  But  the  nature  (say  I) 
of  the  command  being  unknown,  these  words  of  the 
epistle  have  been  understood  to  signify  only  that  Isaac, 
was  a  type  of  Christ,  in  the  same  sense,  that  the  Old 
Tabernacle  in  this  epistle  is  called  a  type — rW  IIAPABOAH, 
that  is,  a  thing  designed  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  have  both 
a  present  signj/icancy  and  a  future.  IrUck  amounts  but 
just  to  this,  that  Abraham  receiving  Isaac  safe  from 
Mount  Moriah,  in  the  manner  Scripture  relates,  he, 
thereby,  became  a  type.  An  ancient  interpretation,  as 
appears  by  the  reading  of  the  vulgate  Latin.  Unde  cum 
ix  PARABOLAM  accepit,  for  in  parabola,  as  it  ought  to 
have  been  translated,  conformably  to  the  Greek  *. 

XII.  But  to  return  to  our  Examiner;  who,  after  all 

this  expence  of  criticism,  owns,  at  last,  that  "  a  reason 

'  will  be  wanting,  why  instead  of  speaking  the  fact  as  it 

"  really  was.  that  Isaac  came  alive  from  the  Mount,  the 

"  Apostle  chose  rather  to  say  (what  was  not  really  the 

*  Divine  Legal,  vol.  vi.  pp.  27,  28. 

"  case) 


Remark  12.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  383 

"  case)  that  Abraham  received  him  from  the  dead" 
Well ;  and  have  not  I  given  a  reason  ?  And  what  then  ? 
For  what  did  I  commence  Examiner,  if  I  may'nt  have 
reasons  of  my  own? — They  follow  thus,  "  If  Isaac  did 
"  not  die  (as  it  is  certain  he  did  not)  Abraham  could  not 
!'  receive  him  from  the  dead.  And  yet  the  Apostle  says, 
"  he  received  him  from  the  dead.  The  clearing  up 
"  this  difficulty,  will  shew  the  true  sense  of  the  passage." 
pp.  147,  148.  What,  will  the  clearing  up  a  difficulty  of 
his  own  making,  discover  the  true  sense  of  another  man's 
writing?  This  is  one  of  his  new  improvements  in  logic  ; 
in  which,  as  in  arithmetic,  he  has  introduced  a  rule  of 
false,  whereby  an  unknown  truth  is  to  be  ferretted  out  by 
a  known  untruth.  For  there  is  none  of  this  difficulty  in 
the  sacred  text;  it  is  not  there,  as  in  our  Examiner's  ex 
pression,  said  by  the  apostle,  simply,  that  Abraham 
received  Isaac  from  the  dead,  but  that  he  received  him, 
from  thence,  ix  A  FIGURE,  or  under  the  assumed  per 
sonage  of  Christ.  Now  if  Christ  died,  then  he,  who 
assumed  his  personage,  in  order  to  represent  his  passion 
and  resurrection,  might,  surely,  well  be  said  to  be  received 
from  the  dead  in  ajigitrc.  A  wonderful  difficulty,  truly  ! 
and  as  wonderfully  solved,  by  a  conundrum  !  But  with 
propriety  sufficient :  for  as  a  real  difficulty  requires  sense 
and  criticism,  an  imaginary  one  may  well  enough  bo 
managed  by  a  quibble.  Because  the  translators  of  St. 
Marti  %  gospel  have  rendered  Iv  -&OLX  srapaSoA?,  by — with 
what  comparison  shall  we  compare  it,  therefore  iv  -sry^K^ox^ 
in  the  text  in  question,  he  says,  signifies  COMPARATIVELY 
SPEAKING.  But  no  words  can  shew  him  equal  to  his 
own — "  The  Apostle  does  not  say  simply  and  absolutely, 
i  that  Abraham  received  Isaac  from  the  dead ;  but  that 
'  he  received  him  from  the  dead,  tv  -ar&pxZoXy,  m  a 
:(  parable"  See  here  now !  Did  not  I  tell  you  so  ? 
There  was  no  difficulty  all  this  while :  the  sentence  only 
opened  to  the  right  and  left  to  make  room  for  his  objec 
tion  :  and  now  closes  again.  "  It  was  not  simply  said1' — 
No.  "  But  that  he  received  him — iv  TrapxSoXy,  hi  a 
hi  parable,  i.  e.  in  a  comparison,  or  by  comparison.  Thus 
4  the  word  is  used  Mark  iv.  30.  Whereiuiio  shall  we 
;  liken  the  kingdom  of  Gad,  or  with  what  COMPARISON 
ii]  shall  we  compare  it.  The  meaning 

"  ihen 


384  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  II, 

*'  then  may  be,  that  Abrahams  receiving  Isaac  alive 
"  (alter  his  death  was  denounced)  by  the  revocation  of 
"  the  command,  was  AS  JF  HE  HAD  received  him  from 
"  the  dead.  Thus  several  interpreters  understand  the 
"  place.  Or  it  may  be,  as  others  will  have  it,  that  the 
"  Apostle  here  refers  to  the  birth  of  Isaac',  which  was 
"  [lywap&ttXn]  COMPARATIVELY  SPEAKING,  a  receiving 
"  him  from  the  dead;  his  father  being  old,  and  his 
"  mother  past  the  age  of  child-bearing,  on  which  account 
"  the  Apostle  styles  them  both  dead.  Which  interpreta- 
"  tion,  I  the  rather  approve,  because  it  suggests  the 
"  proper  grounds  of  Abrahams  faith."  pp.  148,  149. 

He  says,  h  wa^aSox*?  signifies  in  or  by  comparison ;  and 
that  the  word  is  so  used  in  St.  Mark ;  to  prove  which, 
he  quotes  the  English  translation.  Now  I  must  take 
the  liberty  to  tell  him,  that  the  translators  were  mistaken  ; 
and  he  with  them.  riapaSoxJ,  in  St  Mark,  is  not  used 
in  the  sense  of  a  similitude  or  comparison,  but  of  spara 
ble.  The  Ancients  had  two  ways  of  illustrating  the 
things  they  inforced ;  the  one  was  by  a  parable,  the 
other  by  a  simple  comparison  or  simile.  How  the  latter 
of  these  arose  out  of  the  former,  I  have  shewn  in  The 
D'wim  Legation  *.  Now,  I  say,  that  both  these  modes 
of  illustration  are  referred  to  in  the  text  of  St.  Mark ; 
which  should  have  been  translated  thus,  To  what  shall 
we  COMPARE  the  kingdom  of  God,  or  with  what  PARA 
BLE  shall  we  illustrate  or  parabolize  it — o/Aotwtr&y*^— 
•fira^aSaXoyxsv. — So  that  the  latter  part  of  the  verse  is  not - 
a  repetition,  as  the  translators  seem  to  have  thought,  of 
the  former;  so  frequent  in  the  Scripture  style;  but,  both 
together,  express  two  different  and  well-known  modes  of 
illustration. 

But  now  suppose,  lv  TSTOL&  tirAfwS^S  had  signified  with 
what  comparison  :  How  comes  it  to  pass  the  lv  •suzpoc.Zorf 
should  signify  by  comparison,  or  as  it  were,  or  COMPA 
RATIVELY  SPEAKING?  In  plain  truth,  his  critical 
analogy  has  terminated  in  a  pleasant  blunder.  How  so  ? 
says  he. — Nay  'tis  true  there's  no  denying,  but  that 
speaking  by  comparison  is  comparatively  speaking :  and, 
it  men  will  needs  put  another  sense  upon  it,  who  can  help 
that?  -\Vas  it  a  time  for  our  Author,  when  he  was 

..       *  Yol.iv,  p.  138. 

writing 


Remark  12.]  OCCASIONAL  REFACTIONS.  385 

writing  eliminations)  to  spoil  a  good  argument  by  nicely 
enquiring  into  the  seme  of  an  expression  ?  He  left  it  to 
those  whom  it  more  concerned,  to  tell  the  reader,  that 
comparatively  speaking  does  not  at  present  (whatever  it 
might  heretofore)  signify,  speaking  by  a  comparison',  but 
speaking  loosely  and  incorrectly;  which  sense  of  the 
phrase,  I  suppose,  arose  from  the  comparisons  of  such 
kind  of  Writers  as  our  Examiner ;  that  were  generally 
observed  to  be  lame  and  inaccurate.  However,  though 
I  am  no  jrreat  friend  to  the  innocence  of  error.  I  should 

O  »•/ 

have  been  ready  endugh  to  think  it  a  simple  blunder,  had 
I  not  observed  him  to  go  into  it  with  much  artful  prepa 
ration  ;  a  circumstance  by  no  means  characteristic  of  that 
genuine  turn  of  mind,  which  is  quick  and  sudden,  and 
over  head  and  cars  in  an  instant:  but  he  begins  with  ex 
plaining,  ///  a  comparison,  by — by  comparison  :  in  which, 
you  just  get  the  first  glimpse,  as  it  were,  of  an  enascent 
equivocation;  and  this  [by  comparison]  is  presently, 
aferwards,  turned  into,  as  it  were,  or,  as  if  he  had',  and 
then,  comparatively  speaking  brings  up  .the  rear,  and 
closes  the  criticism  three  deep.  But  he  "approves  of 
the  interpretation"  which  makes  the  author  of  the  epistle 
to  the  Hebrews  "  refer  to  the  birth  of  Isaac,  because  it 
"  suggests  (he  says)  the  PROPER  grounds  of  Abrahams 
"  faith/'  Till  now  I  thought  the  proper  grounds  of 
Abrahams  faith  (as  of  every  other  man s)  had  been  his 
knowledge  of  the  nature  of  the  Godhead,  one  of  whose 
attributes  is  veracity.  No,  says  this  great  philosopher 
and  divine ;  his  proper  grounds  were  these,  that  God 
had  told  him  truth  once  already. — And  now  had  he  not 
reason,  after  all  this,  to  turn  to  me,  and  with  an  air  of 
triumph  and  gaiety  to  accost  me  in  the  following  manner? 
"  It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  Sir,  that  you  are  a  stranger 
"  to  these  interpretations,  which  are  in  every  body's 
i(  hands;  but  as  if  nothing  of  this  sort  had  ever  been 
"  thought  of,  you  pass  it  over  with  absolute  neglect;  and 
"  will  needs  have  it,  that  the  Apostle  was  full  of  vor:R 
"  ideas ;  for  no'  other  reason  that  I  can  see,  than  because 
"  you  are  full  of  them  yourself."  pp.  148,  9.  Indeed, 
Sir,  comparatively  speaking,  I  was  much  a  stranger  to 
them.  For  what  were  they,  till  seen  in  the  pleasant 
light  in  which  you  have  placed  them  ?  1  will  Only  say 
VOL.  XL  C  c  on* 


386  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [PartIL 

one  thing  to  your  argument  (as  I  now  hasten  to  your 
Vvit) ;  which  is,  that,  had  yeu  known  the  force  of  the  word 
£xo/x'<r:*I0,  iii  the  text,  you  had  known  that  the  deadness  of 
Sarah's  womb  could  not  be  meant.  But,  since  you  love 
the  authority  of  interpreters *,  I  will  give  you  what  the 
great  ScaUger  says  on  the  words  ly  wapa£oA?;  "  In  imagine 
"  quadam  resurrectionis :  quia  qui  immolation!  addictus- 
*  erat,  &  postea  liberatus,  videtur  tanquam  resurrexisse. 
1  Hnec  est  Calvitii  expositio,  longe  omnium  optima." 

But,  says-  our  Examiner,  u  you  will  needs  have  it  that 
"  the  Apostle  was  full  of  YOUH  ideas."  My.  ideas,  inti 
mates  ideas  discovered  by  me ;.  and  to  suppose  the  Apostle 
full  of  these,  would  have  been,  I  confess,  a  little  extraor 
dinary.  The  tiuthis,  I  said  nothing  so  silly.  I  said, 
THESE  ideas.  But  what  then?  It  was  necessary,  per 
haps,  to  the- wit  that  follows — "  for  no  other  reason,  that 
;<c  I  can  see,  than  because  you  are  full  of  them  yourself." 
And  shall  I  be  angry  with  him  for  this  ?'  Surely,  no. 
I  can  easily  forgive  the  false  quotation,  for  the  sake  of  so- 
much  wit.  For,  as  Siephano  says  to  his  viceroy  on  th&~ 
like  occasion,  "  I  thank  thee  for  that  jest;  'tis  an  ex- 
"  ccllent  pass  of  pate :  and  wit  shall  not  go  unrewarded 
"  while  I  am  king  of  this  island." 

XIII.  Our  Examiner  goes  on  :  " The  las-t  step  (say& 
"  he)  you  take  in  this  argument,  is  to  raise  objections 
"  against  the  common  account  of  this  history ;  in  order 
Y  to  draw  an  inference  from  thence,  that  your  account 
"  must  be  the  true  one ;  and  this  is  what  I  shall  next. 
:i  consider."  p.  149.  He  had  said  before,  that  having 
struck  my  corner -st07ie>  and  unsettled  my  foundation,  he 
had  stopt  me  short,  and  put  a  period  to  my  argument. 
.But  il  seems,  somehow  or  other,  I  had  recovered  myself, 
•''and  pushed  it  forward.  Eor  now  he  talks  of  (tuothcr 
tep  I  had  taken  in  this  argument.  Happily  indeed,  both 
for  himself  and  me,  it  is  the  last.  "  You  tell  us  then 
"  (says  he)  that  the  command,  as,  it  hath  been  hitherto 
'(  understood — occupies  a  place  in  Abraham's  history^ 
V  that,  according  to  our  ideas  of  things,  it  cannot  proper  I  if 
"  have.  The  command  is  supposed  to  be  given  as  a  trial 

:  •*  The  Irarned  Letter  Writer  above  -mentioned  gives  another  good 
reason,  and  produces  another  good  authority,  against  this  fancy. — 
S«e  p.  48. 

"  only- 


Remark  13.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  '387 

":  only.  Now  when  the  great  Searcher^  of-  HearisJ[$ 
"  pleased  to  try  any  of  his  servants,  either  for  example- 
<c  sake,  or  for  some  other  end — as  in  this  he  condescends 
"  to  the  manner  of  men — so,  we  may  be  assured,  he 
"  would  accommodate  himself  to  their  manner  'likewise, 
"  in  the  most  material  circumstance  of  the  trial.  But 
"  amongst  men,  the  agent  is  always  tried  before  he  is  set 
'"  on  work,  or  rewarded^and  not  after— on  the  contrary—^ 
"•  this  trial  was  made  after  all  Abraham's  a \-ork  was  done  ; 
"  and  all  God*s  mercies  received-— nay,  what  is  still  more-* 
"  strange,  after  he  had  been  once  tried,  already.— We 
"  must  needs  conclude  therefore,  that  the  command  was 
"  not  (according  to  the  common  notion)  a  trial  only, 
"  because  it  comes  after  all  Gad's  dispensations.  Yet, 
"  as  the  sacred  text  assures  us,  it  was  a  trial,  and  as  a 
"  trial  necessarily  precedes  the  employment  or  reward  of 
"  the  person  tried',  we  must  needs  conclude,  that  as  no 
*'  employment,  so  some  benefit  followed  this  trial.  Now 
"  on  our  interpretation,  a  benefit,  as  we  shall  see,  did 
"  follow.  We  have  reason  therefore  to  conclude  this 
"  interpretation  to  be  the  true"  pp.  149,  150.  To  this 
he- answers,  "You  lay  it  down  here  as  the  common  in- 
"  terpretation,  that  the  command  to  Abraham  to  offer 
"  up  his  son  was  given  as  a  trial  ONLY;  WHICH  is  NOT 
tf  TRUE."  Why?  Because  "the  common  opinion  is, 
"  that  God's  intention  in  this  command  was  not  only  to 
"  try  Abraham,  but  also  to  PREFIGURE  the  sacrifice  of 
"'Christ"  p.  150.*."  Excellent!  I  speak  here  of  .the 
command'?,  being  given.  But  given  to  whom  ?  To  all 
the  faithful,  for  whose  sake  it  was  recorded?  or  to 
Abraham  only,  for  whose  sake  it«xvas  revealed?  Does 
not  the  very  subject  confine  , my  meaning  to  this  latter 
sense?  Now,  to  Abraham,  I  say  (according  tQrthe  com 
mon  opinion)  it  was  green  as  a  trial  only.  To  the 
faithful,  if  you  will,  as  a  pre figuration.  If,  to  extricate 
himself  from  his  confused  or  sophistical  reasoning,  he 
will  say  it  prefigured  to  Abraham  likewise ;  he  then 
gives  up  all  he  has  been  contending  for,  against  my  in* 
terpretation,  viz.  that  Abraham  knew  this  to  be  a  repre 
sentation  of  the  great  sacrifice  of  Christ :  I  call  Ills 

*  Here  again  the  learned  Writer  in  his  Letter  to  dnr  Examiner, 
"  |>.  14,  very  clearly  exposes  this  sophism. 

c  c  '2  reasoning" 


3S8  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [PartlL 

reasoning  confused  or  sophistical*     Sec,   if  he  be  not 
obliged  to  me  Ibr  my  indecision.     Where  I  speak  of  the 
common  opinion,  I  say,  the  command  is  supposed  to  be 
GIVEN  as  a  trial  only.     He  thinks  fit  to  tell  LDC,  I  sen/ 
not  true.     But  when  he  comes  to  prove  it,   he  changes 
the  terms   of  the   question    tliusv    "  For  the    common 
"  opinion  is  that  GOD'S  IXTE^TIOX  in  this  command 
" '"was,"  fyc\     Now  the  purpose  of  God's  giving  a  com 
mand  to  Abraham,  for  his  sake,  might  be  one  thing;   and 
his  general  intention,  in  that  command,  as  it  concerned 
the  whole  of  his  dispensation,  another.     I  leave  it  there 
fore  to  the  reader  to  determine,   whether  our  Examiner 
changed  the  terms  of  the  question,  by  design  oy  ignorance. 
But  1  have  another  reason  why  he  should   have  allowed 
me,  in  this  place  at  least,  not  to  have  been  mistaken. 
And  that  is,  because  a  great  man  (whose  authority  is 
deservedly  the  fiighest  in  the  learned  world!,  and  which 
our  Examiner  havS  more  reasons  than  one  to  pay  a  due; 
regard  to)  is  in  the  same  sentiments;  and  takes  it  for 
granted,  as  we  shall  see  by  the  words  that  follow,   that 
tlic  common  opinion  is  that  God's  giving  thk  command 
was  "  only  to  try  Abraham"    "  I  was  (says  he)  under  a 
"difficulty  [a  case,  which,  I  dare  sayr  Ecver  happened 
"  ta  our  Examiner]  to  account  for  this  action  on  the  foot 
"  of  its  being  a  trial  only*."     But  to  prove  further  that 
I  said  not  true,  when  I  said,  that,  according  ts  the  com 
mon  interpretation  the  command  icas  given  for  a  trial* 
wily;  he  observes,  that   I   myself  had  owned  that  the 
wscmblanct  to  Christ's  sacrifice  icas  so  strong,  that  w- 
^crpreters  could  never  overlook  it.     liow  much  this  is  to 
the  purpose,  unless  we  altaw  Abrahams  himc  ledge  of  the. 
figure,  has  been  seen  already.     Nor  does  he  appear  ta 
be  less  conscious  of  its  im pertinence ;  therefore,  instead 
of  attempting  to  inforce  it  to  the  purpose  for  which  he 
quotes  it,  he  turns,  all  on  a  sudden,  to  shew  that  it  makes 
nothing  to  the  purpose  for  which  /  employed  it.     But 
let  us   follow   this   Proteus  through    all   bis   windings. 
"  The  resemblance  (says  he),  no  doubt,  is-  very  strong: 
<c  but  how  this  corroborates  your  sense  of  the  command, 
"  I  do  riot  see.     Your  sense  is,   that  it  was  an  actual 
"  information  given  to   Abraham,   of  the  sacrifice  of 
*  Div.  Leg.  vol.  vi.  p.  5» 

"  Christ. 


14.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  389 

"  Christ.  But  to  prefigure,  and  to  hiforni,  are  different 
"  tilings.  Tliis  transaction  might  prefigure,  and  decs 
"  Pr(jfigltrc9  tne  sacrifice  of  Christ ;  whether  Abraham 
"  kneic  any  thing  of  the  sacrifice  of  C/tirixt  or  ao.  For 
*  it  does  not  follow,  that  because  a  thing  is  prefigured '•; 
"  therefore  it  must  be  seen  and  icpderstew,  at  the  tune 
"  when  it  is  prefigured"  pp.  150,  151.  Could  it  have 
been  believed  that  these  words  should  immediately  follow 
ail  argument,  whose  force,  that  little  it  has,  is  tbundcd 
on  the  principle,  That  to  prefigure  and  to  inform  are  NOT 
different  things?  Bu£  retrospects,  with  bad  reckoners, 
are  troublesome  things.  At  this  rate,  1  should  soon  find 
my  task  double.  'l  shall  therefore  take  his  accounts  as 
they  lie.  And  if  they  betray  themselves,  why  so.  He 
Says  then>  u  he  does  not  see  how  this  CORROBORATFS 
"  my  sense,  because  to  prefigure  and  to  inform  are  dif- 
"  terent  things."  It  was  tlrat  very  difference  which  mad t 
me  call  it  a  corroborotion  of  my  sense.  Had  there  been 
no  difference,  I  should  not  have  called  it  a  corroborat'w/i 
of  my  sense,  but  my  very  sense  itself.  As  to  the  obser 
vation  that  follows,  and  the  explanation  of  it,  all  he  says 
is  very  true.  But  a  truth  the  most  unlocked  for  ;  i .  Be 
cause  it  is  a  truth  I  myself  had  much  inculcated  through 
out  The  Divine  Legation.  2.  Because  it  is  a  full  answer 
to  all  he  h^s  himself  urged  in  the  body  of  his  pamphlet 
for  a  future  state  s  being  known  or  taught  to  the  Jewish 
people.  3.  Because  (as  is  hinted  at  above)  it  is  as  full 
an  answer  to  the  very  question  we  are  upon,  tv*.  Whe 
ther,  according  to  the  common  opinion,  the  command 
was  given  only  to  try  Abraham ;  or  whether  both  to  try 
and  to  prefigure,  &c.  Now  I  was  there  speaking  of  thi 
command,  as  given  to  Abraham.  Therefore  to  prejigm\: 
Could  not  be  one  end,  because  it  was  not  to  inform. 

XIV.  But  we  are  yet  only  in  the  skirts  of  his  argu 
ment,  on  which,  indeed,    I  have  set  too  long.     "  Thub 
much  (says  he}  being  observed  to  PitEvfcNT  confusion/' 
p.  ijl.     This   puts  me  in  mind  of  the  constable,  \v he- 
being  called  in  to  appease  a  quarrel,  first  knocked  dow. 
every  one  he  met;  and  then  said,    "  Thus  much  to  prc 
vent  disorder."     For  the  reader  sees  all  the  cotifusion  ' 
of  his  own  making ;  and  that,  I  have  reason  to  ienr,  will 
keep  rising   by  every  new  obiervation.     **  Let  us  now 

c  c  3  (says 


390  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  -II. 

(says  he)  attend  to.  your  argument."  p.  151.     Indeed  it 
is  time  ;  and  so,  without  more  ceremony,  take  it.     One 
qf  mv  proofs  against  the  common   interpretation  was, 
tha_t  according  to  that,  there  was  no  reward  subsequent 
to  the  trial.     To  which  he  answers,  "  But  how  can  you 
"  prove  that,  according  to  the  common  interpretation, 
"  there -^vas  no  reward  subsequent  to  the  trial?"'  p.  151. 
How  shaij  I  be  able  to"  please  him?     Before  he  was 
pffended  that   I   supposed   the  author  of  the   book   of 
Genesis  might  omit  relating  the  mock  of  a  fact,  when  lie 
had  good  reason  *  so  to  do.     Here,  because   I  suppose 
?io' fact,  from  there  being  pone  recorded,  w-beix  no  reason 
hindered,  he  is  as  captious  on  this  side.  -   "  How  will  you 
prove  it?"  (says  he).    From,  the  silence  of  the  historian, 
say  I,  when  nothing  hindered  him  from  speaking.    Well, 
but  he  will  shew  it  fairly  recorded  in  Scripture,  that  there 
we're  r  eic  a  rds  subsequent  to  the  trial.    This,  indeed^  is  to 
the  purpose:  "  Abraham  (says  he}  lived  a  great  many 
"  years   after  that  transaction  happened.  .  lie  lived  to, 
"  dispose  of  his  son  Isaac  in  marriage,  and  to  see  his, 
"seed.     He  lived  to  be  married  himself  to  another  wife, 
"  and  to  have  several  children  by  her  ;  he  had  not  THEN 
"  received  all  God's  mercies,  not  were  all  God's  dispen- 
"  sations  towards  him  at  an  end;  and  it, is  to  be  remem- 
"  bered  that  it  is  expressly  said  of  Abraham^  Gen.  xxiv.  i . 
"  (a  long  time  after  the  transaction  in  question)  that  God 
//  had  blessed  ,  him  in   ail  things"  pp.  151, 152.     The 
question  here. is,'  of  the *•  extraordinary  and  uncommon 
rewards  bestowed  by  God  on  Abraham  ;  and  he  decides 
•upon  it,  by  an  enumeration  of  the  ordinary  and  common. 
And,  to 'fill  up  the  measure  of  these  blessings,  he  makes 
the?  marrying ;  of  another  wife  one.     Though  unluckily, 
this  wife  at  last   proves    but   a   concubine ;  as  appears 
plainly  from  the  'place  where  she  is  mentioned.     But  let 
me  ask  him  seriously ;  Could  he,  indeed,  suppose  me  to 
mean  (though  he  attended  "not, to'  the  drift  of  the  argu 
ment)  that  God   immediately  withdrew  all  liis   favours 
from'  the  Father   of  'the   Faithful,    after  the  last  great 
reward  he  conferred  upon  him,   though  he  lived  many 
years  afte'r?  "  I  can  hardly,  I -"confess^  account  for  this, 
any  otherwise  than  from  a  certain  turn  of  mind  which  I 
.    •*,  See 'the  reason  assigned,  Div.  Leg.  Book  vi.  §  5. 

don't 


Remark  14-]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  391 

don't  care  to  give  a  name  to :  but  which,  the  habit  of 
answering  has  made  so  common  that  nobody  either  mis 
takes  it,  or  -is  much  scandalized  at  it.  Though  I,  for  my 
part,  should  esteem  a  total  ignorance  of  letters  a  much 
-happier  lot  than  such  a  learned  depravity.  "  But  this  is' 
snot  all,"  (says  he.) — No?  I  am  sorry  for  it!  'Twa4 
enough  in  conscience. — "  What  surprizes  me  most  is, 
"  that  you  should  argue  so  WEAKLY",  as  if  the  reward 
""  of  good  men  had  respect  to  this  lite  only.  Be  it,  that 
"  Abraham  had  received  all  God's  mercies;  and  that  all 
"  God's  dispensations  towards  him,  in  this  world,  were 
•"  at  an  end  ;  was  there  not  a  life  yet  to  come,  with 
"  respect  to  which  the  whole  period  of  our  existence 
4i  here  is  to  be  considered  as  a  state  of  trial ;  and  where 
**  we  are  all  of  us  to  look  for  that  reward  of  our  virtues 
"  which  we  very  often  fail  of  in  this?"  p.  152*  Well, 
if  it  was  NOT  ALL,  we  find,  at  least,  'twas  all  'of,  a  piece.. 
For  as  before  he  would  sophistically  obtrude  upon  us 
common,  for  extraordinary  rewards -,  so  here  (true  to  the 
genius  of  his  trade)  he  puts  common  for  extraordinary 
trials.  The  case,  to  which  I  applied  my  argument,  was' 
this; — God,  determining  to  select  a  chosen  people  from' 
the  loins  of  Abraham,  would  manifest  to  the  world  thalt 
this  patriarch  was  worthy  of  the  distinction  shewn  him, 
by  having  his  faith  found  superior  to  the  hardest  trials. 
In  speaking  of  these  trials,  I  said,  that  the  command  to 
offer  Isaac  was  the  last.  "  No,  says  the  Examiner,  that 
"  cannot  be,  for,  with  respect  to  a  life  to  come,  the 
*'  whole  period  of  our  existence  here,  is  to  be  considered 
as  a  state  of  trial."  And  so  again,  (says  he)  with 
to  the  reward^  which  you  pretend,  in  the  order 
x)f  God's  dispensations,  should  follow  the  trial:  Why? 
We  are  to  "  look  after  it  in  another  trorld.''— -"-Holy* 
Scripture  records  the  history  of  one,  to  whom  God  only 
promised  (in  tl^e  clear  and  .obvious  sense)  temporal  bles 
sings.  It  records,  .that  these  temporal  blessings  were* 
dispensed.  One  species  .of  which  were  extraordinary) 
rewards  after  extraordinary  trials.  In  the  most  extraor 
dinary  of  all,  no  reward  followed  :  this  was  my  difficulty. 
See  here,  how  he  has  cleared  it  up.— I  would  willingly 
believe  the  best :  yet  the  bringing  in  a  future  state  (no 
more  to  c)  eating  up  the  difficulty  than  m  future  par  Ha- 

c  c  4  went) 


392  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

menf)  look#  so  very  like,  what  the  logicians  call,  argur 
'incntum  ad  invidiam,  that  I  don't  know  whether  I  shall 
bring  the  reader  to  believe  with  IDC.  •''  \Vhat  surpri/cs 
ine  most  (says  he)  is,  that  you  should  argue  so  \vcajdy." — 
//  cr//-//y,  does  he  say  r  Let  him  speak  out;  and  rathev 
bay  wickedly ;  \vhich  is  indeed  what  he  would  have  the 
reader  understand,  though  in  tenderness  he  prefers  $ 
softer  word :  for  he  roundly  asserts,  that  /  have  argued 
as  if  the  reward  of  good  men  had  respect  to  this  lift 
only.  I  had  said,  indeed,  frequently  said,  that  many 
good  men  had  no  respect  to  any  other  reward  ;  but  thai 
the  reward  of  good  men  had  respect  to  this  life  only7  I 
riot  only  never  said,  but  even  abhor  the  thoughts  of. 
I  must  therefore  call  upon  my  Examiner,  for  this  jfotU'tlj 
*£im0,  to  prove  that  I  ever  argued  in  that  manner,  or» 
pain  of  passing  for  a  calumniatpr. 

XV.  But  he  seems  to  be  sensible  of  his  bad  argu 
ment  ;  whatever  might  be  his  intention  in  using  it ;  and 
>vould  save  all  by  another  fetch :  for  the  weakest  are 
ever  most  fruitful  in  expedients.  "  And  what  (says  he) 
"  if,  after  all  this,  the  wisdom  of  God  should  have 
"  thought  fit,  that  this  very  man,  whom  he  had  singled 
"  out  to  be  an  eminent  example  of  piety  to  all  genera- 
<c  tions,  should,  at  the  very  close  of  his  life,  give  evidence 
"  of  it,  by  an  instance  that  exceeded  all  that  had  gone 
"  before ;  that  he  might  be  a  pattern  of  patient  suffering, 
"  even  unto  the  end?  Would  there  not  be  SENSE  in 
"  such  a  supposition?'7  p.  153.  In  truth,  I  doubt  not, 
as  he  has  put  it:  and  I  will  tell  him,  why.  Abraham 
was  not  a  mere  instrument  to  stand  for  an  example  only, 
but  a  moral  agent  likewise  ;  and  to  be  dealt  with  as  such. 
Nowr  though,  as  he  stands  for  an  example,  we  may  admit 
of  as  many  trials  for  patient  suffering  as  our  good- 
natured  Examiner  thinks  fitting  •  yet,  as  a  moral  agent, 
it  is  required  (as  I  have  proved  from  the  method  of 
God's  dealing  with  his  servants,  recorded  in  sacred  his 
tory)  that  .each  trial  be  attended  with  some  work  done,, 
or  some  reward  conferred.  -But  these  two  circumstances 
in  Abrahams  character,  our  Examiner  perpetually  con 
founds.  He  supposes  nothing  to  be  clone  for  j4hrtlh<ftri*$ 
awn  sake, ;  but  every  thing  for  the  examples  sake.  Yet, 

"  the  good  cause  of  answering  require,  he  could  us 


Hem.  1 5.  iG.l OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  393 

^asily  suppose  the  contrary.  And  that  I  do  him  no 
wrong,  [  will  here  give  the  reader  a  remarkable  instance 
of  this  dexterity,  in  the  counter- exercise  of  his  arms, 
In  p.  150,  of  these  Considerations,  (he  says)  "  IT  DOES 
•"  NOT  FOLLOW,  that,  because  a  tiling  is  prefigured,  thtre- 
"  fore  it  must  be  seen  and  understood  AT  THE  TI.MK 
"  when  it  is  prefigured."  Yet  in  the  body  of  the  pam 
phlet,  pp.  112,  1 13,  having  another  point  to  puzzle  ;  hg 
says  (on  my  observing  that  a  future  state  and  resurrec 
tion  were  not  national  doctrines  till  the  time  of  the 
Maccabees)  "  he  knows  I  \vill  say  they  had  these  doc-. 
•"  trines  from  the  prophets— yet  the  prophets  were  dead 
"  two  hundred  years  before.'' — But  if  the  prophets  were 
dead,  their  writings  were  extant — "  And  what  then?  is 
"  it  LIKELY  that  the  sons  should  have  learnt  from  the 
"  dead  prophets,  what  t|ie  lathers  could  not  learn  iforn 
"  the  living  ? — Why  could  not  the  Jews  learn  this  doc- 

,**••"•  *O  »  . ' 

*'  trine  from  THE  VERY  FIRST,  as  well  as  their  posterity 
"  at  fhe  distance  of  ages  afterwards  r "  In  the  first  case 
>ve  find  he  expressly  says,  it  docs  not  follow ;  in  the 
second,  he  as  plainly  supposes,  that  it  does. 

XVI.  ."  But  there  arc  other  objections  besides  this 
"  (he  says)  to  my  interpretation  of  the  command  :  as 
•  (  first  it  doth  not  appear  how  Abraham  could  collect 
"  from  this  transaction,  that  Clirist  was  to  be  offered  up 
(<  as.  a  sacrifice.  I  can  easily  understand  that  converse 
"  may  be  maintained  by  actions  as  well  as  by  words* 
"  What  you -have  said  upon  that  subject*,  §c.  no  doubt 
"  is  very  just :  and  the  instances  you  have  produced  from 
"  Scripture,  where  actions  have  been  used  as  foreshowing 
•"  the  determinations  of  Providence,  are  beyond  all  ex- 
"  ception.  But  whereas  you  have  considered  the  action 
"  of  Abraham  in  offering  up  his  son  as  a  case  parallel  to 
"  these ;  it  differs  from  them  all  in  a  very  material  cir~ 
"  cumstance,  viz.  that  nothing  is  here  added  by  way  of 
"  explanation  to  sheio  the  import  of  it.  When  Zcdekiah 
^  made  him  horns  of  iron,  he  said, — Tuvsshalt  thou  puxk 
f  the  Syrians,  i  Kings  xxii.  11.  When  Jeremiah,  was 
"  bid  to  take  a  linen  girdle  and  hide  it  in  the  hole  of  a 
('  rock,  §c.  the  explanation  immediately  follows  \—Thu& 
tt  mlth  the  Lord,  AFTEI^THIS  MANNER  wilt  I  mar  the 
*  piv.  Leg.  Book  iv.  §  4. 

•*  pride. 


394  REMARKS  OX  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

tl  pride  of  Judah,  Sfc.  Jeremiah  xiii.  i — 9.  And  so  it  is 
"  in  every  instance  you  have  produced ;  which  I  need 
"  not  particularly  prove,  because  you  have  confessed  it*. 
"  And  no  doubt  such  explanations,  attending  the  trans- 
"  action,  were  always  necessary  for  the  information  of 
"  the  prophet;  because  though  actions  are  as  expressive 
"  of  itiMs  as  words  are;  yet  it  is  on  supposition  that  there 
"  is  either  common  use,  or  special  intimation,  to  deter- 
•"  mine  ichat  ideas  .mch  or  such  actions  import ;  other- 
"  wise  nothing  can  be  understood.  You  will  not  pretend, 
"  1  suppose,  that  by  any  common  usage  of  those  times, 
"  this  transaction  was  significative  of  the  saciirice  of 
"  Christ ;  therefore  there  must  have  been  some  special 
"  intimation  attending  the  transaction,  and  determining 
*'  it  to  this  meaning,  if  it  was  the  intention  of  Providence, 
"  hereby  to  give  Abraham  any  such  information  ;  of 
lt  which  special  intimation  since  nothing  appears,  it  can 
"  never  appear  that  any  such  information  was  intended. 
"  The  presumption  lies  the  other  way :  because  if  any 
"such  information  had  been  intended;  it  is  natural  to 
"  think  that  the  explanation  would  have  been  recorded 
"  with  the  transaction,  as  it  is  in  all  other  such  like 
"  cases."  pp.  153,  154.  This,  indeed,  stands  unequalled, 
even  by  himself.  In  The  -Divine  Legation,  I  had  shewn 
the  nature  of  this  significative  action  here  commanded-, — 
I  had  shewn  how  it  agreed,  and  how  it  differed,  from 
others  of  the  .same  kind — I  had  shewn  how  Abrahani 
jnust  necessarily  understand'  the  import  of  it.  Yet  here, 
the  Examiner  comes  over  me  with  an  objection,  that 
implies  a  profound  ignorance  of  every  thing  I  had  said. 
I  would  fain  instruct  him  ;  but  if  he  chuses  rather  to  be 
shamed  ;  why,  every  man  to  his  taste.  He  says,  I  con 
sider  the  information  by  action  /;/  the  case  of  Abraham 
as  parallel  to  the  information  given  to,  or  by  the  prophets 
Zcdeldah  and  Jeremiah,  for  the  instruction  of  the  people  : 
"  Whereas  it  differs  from  them  in  a  very  material  cir- 
"  cumstance  ;  namely,  that  nothing  is  here  added  t>y  way 
*-c  of  explanation,  to  shew  the  import  of  it."  Ilcar,  now, 
wircther  I  consider  it  as  parallel  or  different — having 
spoken  of  those  significative  actions  done  by  the  prophets, 
&t  God's  command,  for  the  people's  information,  I  go  on 

*  Di v,  Leg.  vol.vi.p.  25. 

'thus,- 


Remark!  6.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  395 

thus,  By  these  actions  the  prophets  instructed  the  people 
in  the  will  of  God—  but  where  God  TEACHES  THE  PRO 
PHET,  and.,  in  compliance  to  the  custom  of  that  thm\ 
condescends  to  the  same  mode  of  instruct  urn,  then  the 
significative  action  is-  generally  changed  into  a  TMYY/;/, 
cither  natural  or  extraordinary- — /  say  generally,  hid 
not  always.  Sometimes,  though  the  information  was  only 
for  the  prophet,  God  TV oit Id  SET  HIM  UPON  an  expressive 
action,  whose  obvious  meaning  conveyed  the  intelligence 
proposed  or  sought*.  I  therefore  call  upon  him  here 
again  the  jHit|j  Cimc,  to  prove  that  I  considered  them 
as  parallel ;  or  else  to  make  his  retractation.  He  says, 
•"  he  supposes,  I  will  not  pretend  that,  by  any  com- 
"ririon  usage  of  those  times,  this  transaction  was  signifi- 
••?'  cative  of  the  sacrifice  of  Christ."  All  that  I  pretended 
to,  I  delivered  in  very  plain  terms,  in  the  following 
manner.  From  the  view  given  of  Abraham's  history, 
we  sec,  how  all  God's  revelations  to  him,  to  this  last  [bf 
the  Command]  ultimately  relate  to  that  mystic  funda 
mental  promise,  made  to  him  on  his  first  vocation,  that 
in  him  should  all  families,  of  the  earth  be  blessed.  God 
opens  the  scheme  of  his  dispensations,  by  exact  and  regu 
lar  steps — We  see,  throughout,  a  gradual  opening  and 
jit  preparation  for  some  further  Revelation,  which— r- 
vould  be  jio  other  than  that  of  the  Redemption — the  com* 
fiction  of  the  whole  of  God's  economy — Ihit  the  only, 
-remaining  one  recorded— Is  the  command  to  offer  Isaac. 

O  *-i/ 

: — Now  the  happiness  or  redemption  of  mankind,  promised 
to  come  through  Abraham,  could  not  but  make  him  more 
and  more  inquisitive  into  t lie  manner  of  its  being  brought 
about,  in  proportion  as  he  found  himself  to  be  more  and 
more  personally  concerned^  as  the  instrument  of  so  great 
a  blessing. — l¥e  have  shewn  it  to  be  the  custom  of  anti 
quity  to  instruct  by  actions  as  well  as  words — that  God 
himself,  in  compliance  to  a  general  custom,  -used  this  way 
of  information. — Nothing  could  be  conceived  more  appo 
site  to  convey  the  information  than  this  very  action ; 
ABRAHAM  DESIRED  EARNESTLY  to  be  let  into  the 
mystery  of  the  Redemption,  and  God,  to  instruct  him— 
said,  Take  now  tiiy  son,  §c.  The  duration  of  the  action 
\  •  Div.  Leg,  vol.'  iv.  p.  134, 

was 


3yC  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II, 

was  the  same  as  between  Christ's  death  and  resurrection, 
•&c*. — Could  Abraham  now,  after  this,  be  any  more  iu 
doubt,  tliat  this  command  was  to  prefigure  the  sacrifice 
of  Christ ;   than  JKzckiel,  that  what  he  saw  in  the  cham 
bers  jof  imagery  was  to  represent  the  idolatries  of  his 
countrymen  ?      But   our   Examiner   artfully  concealed, 
that  I  had,  all  along,  supposed  from  the  proofs  given, 
that  this  Revelation  was  "  made  at  Abraham*  earnest 
*'  request:"  and  then  asks,  Whether   "  by  any  common 
4i  usage  this  transaction  was  significative  of  the  sacrifice 
"  of  Christ"     If  not,  he  says,  "  there  must  have  been 
"  some  special  intimation  determining  it  to  this  meaning: 
"  of  which,  since  nothing  appears,  it  can  never  appear 
-**  that  any  such  information  was    intended.     The  prer 
"  sumption  lies  the  other  way,  because  if  any  such  inti- 
"  mation  had   been  intended,  it  is  natural  to  think,  tlie 
"  explanation  would  have  been  recorded  with  the  trans- 
"  action,  as  it  is  in  ALL  other  such  like  cases/'     Here 
-again,  he  honestly  conceals  from  his  reader,  that  I  had 
given  two  reasons,  why  the  explanation  was  not  recorded, 
The  one  arising  from  this   species   of  information;  the 
other,    from  the  nature  of  the  thing  informed  of.     The 
first  was,  that  the  nar rathe  of  such  a  converse  by  action 
was  not,  in  its  nature,  so  intelligible  or  obvious,  t/s  that 
where  God  is  shewn  conversing  by  action  to  the  prophets, 
in  the,  several  instances  before  green.     And  the  reason  is 
this :  those  informations,   as  tfay  are  given  to  the  pro 
phets  for  the  instruction  of  the  people,  have,  necessarily^ 
in  the  course  of  the  history,  their  explanations  annexed 
£ut  the  information  to  Abraham  being  soldi/  for  his  own 
use,   there  was.  no  room  for  that  formal  explanation ; 
which  made  the  commanded  actions,  performed  by  the 
prophets,  so  clear  and  intelligible  '\.     And,  to  illu**t^ate 
the  truth  of  the  observation,  I  gave  an  example,  in  ,the 
•relation  of  Jacob's  wrestling  with  the  angel.     WUich 
{like  this  of  the  command)  was  an  information  by  action, 
for  JGCODS  sole  use ;  and  therefore  has  the  same  o". jscu- 
rk?v,   as  not  having  its,  explanation   annexed.     I  have 
shewn   what  that   information  was.     And  will  he,  say, 
(because  the  explanation  was  not  recorded,  that  this  was 

*  Ste  Div.Lec:.  VUI.  vi.  pp.  17.  &  scq.  f  Ibid.  pp.  <J.>  20*. 

fhe 


Remark  *;.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  397 

the  history  of  a   simple   wrestling,    as   that  was   of  a 
commanded  human  sacrifice  ?    Or  will  he  rather  chuse  to 
retract  what  he  had  said,  that  where  it  is  an>  information 
by  action,  the  explanation  is  always  recorded  in  such  like , 
cases?  .  . 

The  second  reason  I  gave  why  the  explanation  was  not 
recorded,  arose  from  the  nature  of  the  thing  informed 
of.  The  knowledge  of  God's  future  dispensation,  in  the 
redemption,  of  mankind,  by  the  death  of  his  Son,  revealed 
us  a  singular  favour  to  the  Father  of  the  Faithful,  teas 
(say  I)  what  could,  by  no  means,  be  communicated  to  the 
Hebrew  people,  when  Moses  wrote  his  history  for  their 
uscf,  because  they  being  then  to  continue  long  under  a, 
carnal  economy,  this  knowledge  of  i lie  end  of  the  law. 
would  have  greatly  indisposed  them  to  that  dispensation! 
with  which.  God,  in  his  infinite  wisdom,  thought  Jit  f& 
exercise  tftern*." 

XVII.  But  he  has  not  learnt  his  trade  for  nothing 
Catch  an  Answerer  without  his  salvo,  if  you  can.  You 
may  trust  him  to  take  care  that  it  shall  never  he  said,  he 
had  passed  over,  in  absolute  silence,  the  answer  given 
above ;  he  therefore  subjoins- — "  To  this  you  reply,  that 
"  the  information  to  Abraham  being  soldi/  for  his  own 
>t  we,  cmd  which  could,  by  no  means,  be  communicated  to 
"  the  Hebrew  people  when  Moses  wrote  his  history ;  there 
"  was  no  room  for  the  forma  I  explanation  which  made  the, 
"  commanded  actions  perforined  bij  the  prophets  so  clear  and 
«  intelligible"  p.  155.—"  To  this  (says  he)  you  reply." 
To  what?  To  his  objections  against  my  interpretation; 
which  are  tliesc — "  That  nothing  is  added  by  wav  of 
"  explanation — that  this  transaction  was  not,  by  any 
<s  common  usage  of  those  times,  significative  of  the  sacri- 
"  lice  of  Christ — that  if  any  such  information  had  been 
"  intended,  it  is  natural  to  think  that  the  explanation- 
"  would  have  been  recorded  with  the  transaction." — Had 
he  given  but  a  common  attention  to  what  I  wrote,  he 
would  have  seen,  that  the  answer,  he  here  quotes  from 
me,  was  a  reply  to  quite  a  different  thing;  namely,  why 
the  sacred  writer  d>d  not,  for  the  information  of  the, 
Jewish  church,  give  an  explanation  of  tht  signi/icath-e 

*  Jpiv.  Leg.  voLvi.  p.  24. 

action. 


REMARKS  ON  SEVElUL        [Part  IT. 

action.  In  the  m'ean  time,  the  reply  I  made  to  his  three 
objections,  he  still  reserves  in  profound  silence.  I  have 
quoted  it  above,  and  it  is  in  substance  this,  That  where 
the  commanded  action  is  for  the  information  of  the  prophet 
only,  there  no  explanation  accompanies  it. — That  the 
command  being  given  at  Abraham's  earnest  request  to  be 
further  acquainted  with  the  mystery  of  the  Redemption^ 
he  must  needs  see  (though  the  transaction  was  not,  by  any 
common  usage  of  those  times,  significative  of  the  sacrifice 
of  Christ}  the  true  and  real  import  of  it. — 1  had  said; 
that  our  Examiner  could  not  have  been  thus  grossly 
mistaken,  had  he  given  a  common  attention  to  what  he 
saw  written.  But  the  reader  may  have  reason  to  suspect 
something  worse,  when  he  observes,  that,  in  quoting  this, 
which  he  calls  my  reply,  he  makes  me  say,  that,  "  as 
"  the  information  was  given  solely  for  Abraham"^  use, 
"  there  \vas  no  room  for  that  formal  explanation,  WHICH 

"  MADE  THE  COMMANDED  ACTIONS  PER1-ORMED  BY 
"  THE  PROPHETS  SO  CLEAR  AND  INTELLIGIBLE.'' 

\Vords  so  devoid  of  all  purpose,  to  the  argument  he  pre 
tends  I  wa  •  there  upon,  that,  had  I  used  them,  or  any 
other  like  them,  I  should  have  been  ashamed,  after  such 
impertinence,  to  have  appeared  again  in  print :  yet  we 
iind  they  were  to  our  Examiner's  purpose  to  bestow  upori  * 
me ;  in  order  to  persuade  the  reader,  that  this  was  really 
a  reply  to  his  objections. 

But  be  the  reply  what  you  please,  if  it  will  but  give 
him  an  opportunity  to  ansiccr,  to  examine,  to  force  a 
trade,  it  is  enough  for  him.  lie  goes  on,  therefore,  in 
this  manner,  "  But  this  which  you  offer,  as  a  solution  of 
:i  the  difficulty,  is,  WITH  ME,  A  NEW  OBJECTION." 
See  here  no\v,  do  I  belie  the  man  ? — "  For  if  the  know- 
"  ledge  of  Chris  fs  sacrifice  was  not  to  be  communicated ; 
i£  to  what  purpose  was  it  clearly  revealed  to  Abraham? 
"  You  say,  that  the  Jews,  being  to  continue  long  under 
"  a  carnal  economy  ;  this  knowledge — rcould  hare  greatly 
"  indisposed  them  to  this  dispensation.  But  why  was 
"  it  then  communicated  to  Abraham  ?  For  hh  sole 
"use,  you  say."  p.  155. —  Here  he  asks  me  a  question, 
then  quotes  my  answer  to  it:  and,  not  liking  that,  asks 
the  quebtK-n  over  again ;  and  then  makes  an  answer  for  it 
himsclij  which,  he  thought,  he  could  manage  better. 
13  lor 


Remark  18.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  399 

For  let  the  reader  take  notice,  that  the  last  ani'wer  is  not 
mine.  I  had  talked  very  impertinently  indeed,  had  I 
given  it  as  a  reason  why  the  revelation  was  made  to 
Abraham,  and  not  given  to  the  'Jews,  that  it  was  for 
Abraham's  sole  use.  I  had  proved,  indeed,  from  fact, 
that  it  was  for  his  sole  use:  but  the  reason  I  gaver  for  its 
not  being  communicated,  was  the'  unfit  circumstances 
and  disposition  of  the  Jewish'  people  to  receive  it.  But 
what  then?  this  which'  he  calls  the  answer  does  its 
business;  as  that  which  he  called  the  reply  had  done 
before  it;  and  serves  him  for  a  handle  to'  a  NEW 
OBJECTION. 

And  thus  he  proceeds — "  What  use  ?  will  you  be 
"  pleased  to  tell  us?  Was  there  any  good  use  that 
"  Abraham  could  make  of  this  knowledge,  which  the  rest 
u  of  the  people  of  God  might  not  have  made  of  it  as  K  ell 
**  as  he  ?  Or  if  it  was  unfit  for  every  body  else,  was  it 
"  not  unfit  for  Abraham  too?''  p.  1/55.  Amazing! 
Had  not  I  given  it  as  the  reason  why  it  could  not  be 
communicated  to  the  Jewish  people,  that  they  were  to> 
continue  long  under  a  burthensomc  carnal  economy; 
which,  this  knowledge  would  have  tempted  them  to  throw 
off  before  the  appointed  time?  and  did  this  reason  extend 
to  Abraham,  who  was  never  under  that  economy  ? 

XVIII.  But  he  goes  on — "la  short,  Sir,  I  do  not 
*'  understand  this  doctrine  (with  which  your  whole  Work 
"  much  abounds)  of  revealing  things  clearly  to  patriarchs, 
K  and  prophets,  and  leaders,  as  a  special  ravour  to  them- 
"  selves ;  but  to  be  kept  as  a  secret  from  the  rest  of 
K  mankind." — It  is  but  too  plain  (as  he  says)  "  he  does 
"  not  understand  it:"  for  which  I  can  give  no  better 
reason  than  its  being  Scripture-doctrine-,  and  not  that  of 
sums  and  systems.  Yet  what  he  cannot  understand,  his 
client  Bishop  Bull  could,  however :  who  (as  he  himself 
informs  us)  asserts,  "  that  there  were  Arcana  in  the 
"  Jewish  theology,  and  consequently  a  twofold  manner 
"  of  teaching  amongst  them;  one  suited  to  vulgar  appre- 
"  hensions ;  the  other  to  those  who  had  made  some 
"  proficiency  in  knowledge."  E.raw.  of  Mr.  W's  second 
Proposition,  p.  125.  So  that  I  ascribe  this  rather  to  a 
of  memory  than  want  of  understanding. 

"I  have 


400  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  IL 

"  I  have  been  used  (say she)  to  consider  persons  under 
"  this  character,  as  appointed",  not  for  themselves,  but 
"  for  others;  and  therefore  to  conclude  that  WHATEVER' 
a  was  clearly  revealed  to  them,   concerning  God's  dis-1 
"  pensations,  was  so  revealed,   in  order  to  be  communi- 
"  cated  toothers."  pp.  15.5,  6.     This  is  the  old  hacknied 
sophism ;  that,  because  persons  act  and  arc  employed  for 
others-,  therefore  they  do  nothing,  or  that  nothing  is  done 
for  iJiemsehes.     When   (rod  said,   Shall  1  hide  from 
Abraham  that  thing  whieh  I  do?  was  riot  this  said  to, 
:md  for  himself?     But  he  sinks  and  flounders  under  this 
false  bottom,  That  wkatfflCF  was  clearly  revealed  to  the 
prophets,  wtis  so  revealed,  in  or  tier  to  be  communicated  to 
others.    Here  then  a  little  Scripture-doctrine  will  do  him 
no  harm.     Did  Hoses  (and  this  is  a  case  in  point)  coin- 
immicate  all  he  knew  to  the  Jew,  concerning  the  Christian 
dispcmcition  >    which  the  author   of  the   JSftstJe  to   the 
Hebrews  tells   us   was    clearly  rrcealed  to  him  in  the 
ilount? — Priests  (says  he)  that  off  er  gifts  according  to 
the  law,  who  serve  unto  the  example  and  shadow  of 
heavenly  things,  as  Moses  was  admonished  of  God  when ' 
he  was  about  to  make  the  taberncle*\     Again,  we  find 
that  Ezeldel,  on  his  being  called  upon  his  mission,  saw, 
what  the  author  of  EdcJus.  calls  the  glorious  vision  ;  and 
had  (as  appear  from  the  allegory  of  the  roll  of  a  book)  a 
full  interpretation  thereof.     Yet,  notwithstanding  .all  his 
illumination,  he  was  directed  by  God  to  speak  so  ob 
scurely  to  the  people,  that  he  at  length  found  cause  to, 
complain,  Ah,  Lord,  they  say  of  me,  Doth  he  not  speak 
parables^?     And  now  let  him  ask  the  prophets  with  the 
same  pertncss  he  is  accustomed  to  examine  me,  H' as- 
there  any  good  use  you  could  make  of  your  knowledge?, 
that  the  people  of  God  might  not  have  made  of  it  as 
well  as  you  ? — But  the  same  dispensation  is  alluded  to, 
and  continued,  under  the  kingdom  of  Christ — And  ins- 
disciples  asked  him  saying,   What  might  this  parable 
be  ?     And  he  said,   Unto  you  it  is  given  to  know  the 
mysteries  of  the  kingdom  of  God:   but  to  others,  in 
parables-,  that  seeing  they  might  not  see>  and  hearing 
they  might  not  understand-"^.     And  now,  reader,  shall. 
I  claim  his  promise  ?     "  l^you  can  shew  (says  he)  that 

•  Heb..viii.  4,  5.         t  Ezek.xx.  49.         I  Lukeviii.  9,  10. 

1  am 


Remark  18.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  401 

"  I  arn  mistaken  in  this,  pray  do  it,  and  I  shall  be  obliged 
"  to  you."     For,  you  see,  I  Jiave  taken  him  at  his  word. 
And  'twas  well  I  did;  for  it  was  no  sooner  out  of  his 
mouth,  than,  as  if  he  had  repented  (not  of  his  candour, 
but  his  confidence)  he  immediately  cries,  Hold — and  tells 
me  "  I    might   have  spared    myself  in  asking  another 
"  question,  Why,  if  Revelations  cannot  le  clearly  re- 
"  corded,    are   they  recorded  at   alL\   p.  156.     But, 
.  great  Defender  of  the  Faith— of  the  ancient  Jewish. 
,  church!  I  asked  that  very  question,  because  the  answer  to 
%  it  shews  how  much  you  are  mistaken ;  as  the  intelligent 
reader,  by  this  time,  easily  perceives.     But  why  does  he 
say  I  might  have  spared  that  question  ?  because,   "  if  a 
"  revelation  is  not  clearly  given,   it  cannot   be  clearly 
".  recorded/'     Did  I.  say  it  could  ?     Or  will  he  say,  that 
there  are  no  reasons  why  a   revelation,  that  is  clearly 
given,  should  be  obscurely  recorded  ?     To  what  purpose 
then,  was  the  observation  made  ?     jYIade  !   why  to  intro 
duce  another.     For,  with  our  equivocal  Examiner,  tiie< 
.  corruption  of  argument  is  the  generation  of  observation. 
"  And 1.  yet  (says  he)  as  you  intimate,  there  may   be 
"  reasons  why  an  OBSCURE  REVELATION  should  be  re- 
"  corded,  to  wit,  for  the  instruction  of  future  ages,  when 
"  the  obscurity  being  cleared  up  by  the  event,  it  shall 
"  appear,  that  it  was  foreseen  and  foreordained  in  the 
-  u  knowledge  and  appointment  of  God."  p.  156. 

What  I  intimated,  was  not  concerning  an  obscure 
revelation,  but  a  revelation  obscurely  recorded.  These 
are  two  very  di  fib  rent  things,  as  appears  from  hence,  that 
the  latter  may  be  a  clear  revelation,  the  word  being 
relative  to  him  to  whom  the  revelation  was  made;  but 
•tills  is  a  peccadillo  only.  However,  he  approves  the 
reason  of  recording ;  for  that,  thereby,  "  it  shall  appear, 
"  that  IT  was  foreseen  and  foreordained  by  God."  IT— 
•what  ?  the  obscure  revelation,  according  to  grammatical 
construction  :  but,,  in  his  English,  I  suppose,  .IT  stands 

for  the  fact  revealed.     Well  then :  from  the  recording  of 

.  ® 

au  obscure  revelation,   he  says  it  will  appear,  when  the 

foretold  fact  happens,  that  it  was  foreseen  and  preordain 
ed  by  God.  This  too  he  tells  the  reader  I  intimated', 
but,  if  tiie  reader  will  take  my  word,  I  never  intimated 
•any  thin  ^  so  foolish.  For  every  fact,  whether  prefigured 

Pii  and 


402  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

and  foretold,  or  not  prefigured  and  foretold,  must  needs 
have   been  foreseen  and   preordained   by  God.     Now, 
whether  we  are  to  attribute  this  to  exactness,  or  to  in 
accuracy  of  expression,  is  hard  to  say.    If  to  the  former, 
it  is  to  be  considered  as  one  of  his  arts,  to  get  to  a  con 
sequence  which  he  immediately  afterwards  endeavours 
to  deduce  from  it ;  which  is,  "  that,  as  well  on  his  sense 
"  of  the  command,  as  on  mine,   a  dependency  between 
"  the  two  dispensations  may  be  deduced."     And  it  is 
certain,  that  if  that  dependency  arises  from  God's  fore 
knowledge  of  the  fact,  he  is  much  ia  the  right;  but  that 
will  be  seen  by  and  by.     On  the  other  hand,  if  it  be  an 
inaccuracy,  as  I  am  rather  inclined  to  think ;  then  it  is 
plain  he  must  mean  something  else ;  and  that  something 
might,  perhaps,  be  this  ;  that,  from  such  a  record,  a  real 
connexion  might  be  proved   between  the  Old  and  Ne\v 
Testament,  arising  from  the  EVIDENCE  that  God,  in  this 
commanded  action,  did  INTEND  to  prefigure  the  sacrifice 
of  Christ. — Just  before,  he  had  said,  "  he  desired  not 
"  to  be  mistaken.'1  p.  156.    But  this,  let  me  tell  him,  is  an 
unreasonable  request,  unless  he  desired  too  to  be  under 
stood.     And  that  he  desires  not  this,  is  evident  from  his 
perpetual  equivocations.    However,  we  presume,  we  have 
here  insinuated  ourselves  into  his  meaning.     But  if  the- 
reader  now  should  ask  how  this  makes  for  the  point  to 
be  proved,  namely,  that  "  I  might  have  spared  myself  in 
"  asking  the  question,  If7hy,  if  revelations  cannot  be 
"  clearly  recorded,  are  they  recorded  at  all  ?"     I  must 
tell  him,  and  let  him  not  be  surprised,  that  it  was  not 
designed  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  the  point  to  be 
proved,   at  all ;   but  only  to  produce  or  give  birth  to 
another  OBSERVATION  ;  begot,  as  he  well  expresses  it, 
UPON  the  foregoing  putrid  argumentation.- — "  UPON  this 
*c  principle  (stiijs  he)  you  must  give  me  leave  to  OBSERVE, 
"  that  the  transaction  in  question  will  have  the   same 
"  efficacy  to  shew,  the  dependency  between  the  two 
"  dispensations.     Whether  Abraham  had  thereby  any 
"  information  of  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  or  not."  p.  156. 
This,  indeed,  is  saying  something.     And,  could  he  prove 
it,  would   be  depriving  my  interpretation  of  one  of  its 
principal  uses.      Let  us  sec  then  how  he  goes  about  it. 
this  does  not  arise  ftom  Abraham's  KNOWLEDGE, 

"  or 


Remark  19.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  403 

"  or  any  body's   KNOWLEDGE,   at  the    time  wh/-n  the 
"  transaction  happened,  but  from  the  similitude  and  cor- 
"  respondency  between  the  event  and  the  trail- ac*.ion,  by 
"  which  it  was  prefigured ;  which  is  exactly  the  same 
"  upon  either  supposition."  pp.  156,  7.    To  this  !  answer 
and  suy,   i.  That  I  myself  never  supposed  that  the  de 
pendency  between  the  two  dispensations  did  "  arise  from 
"  Abrahams  knowledge,  or  any  body's  knowledge,"  at 
that  or  any  other  time;   but  from  COD'S  INTENTION" 
that  this  commanded  action  should  import  or  represent 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ :   and  then  comes  in  the  question 
whether  that  intention  be  best  discovered  from  God's 
declaration  of  it  to  Abraham,  or  from  a  similitude  and 
correspondency  between  this  commanded  aciion  and  the 
sacrifice  of  Christ.     Therefore,  2.  I  answer  and   say, 
that  a  SIMILITUDE  and  CORRESPONDENCY  between  the 
event  and  the  transaction  which  prefigured  it,  is  not 
enough  to  shew  this  DEPENDENCY  to  the  satisfaction  of 
unbelievers  :  who  say,  th.it  a  likeness  between  two  things 
of  the  same  nature ;  such  as  the  oiferihg  up  two  men  to 
death,  though  in  (different  ways,  and  transacted  in  t*vo 
very  distant  periods,  is  not  Sufficient  alone  to  shew  that 
they  had  any  relation  to  one  another*.     With  the  sar.se 
reason  they  will  say,  you  might  pretend  thotJephtha's 
daughter,  or  the  king  of  Mvatf*  son,   whom  the  father 
sacrificed  on  the  wailf,  were  the  types  of  Chri^fs  sacri- 
ficet    Give  us,  say  they,  a  Bible-proof  tlrit  Gon  declared 
or  revealed  his  intention  ot  prefiguring  the  death  oi  Jesus; 
or  some  better  authority  at  least  than  a  modern  tvpitier, 
who   deals   only  in  similitudes   and   correspondences. 
Now  whether  it  be  our  Examiner,  or  I,  \\ho  have  given 
them  this,  satisfaction,  or  whether  they  have  any  reason 
to  require  it  of  us,   is  lett  tQ  the  impartial  reader  to 
consider. 

XIX.  We  now  come  to  the  UTILITY  of  rr»y  interpre 
tation  of  the  command,  having  got  through  all  his  objec 
tions  to  its  TRUTH.  And  here,  the  same  civility  and 
candour  which  so  polished  and  enlivened  the  foregoing 
part,  shine  out  agn'n,  in  the  very  first  words  of  this. 

*  See  what  the  Letter-writer  abovemeinioned  says,  np.  53,  5£. 
•  much  to  the  •same  purpose. 
f  2  Kings  iii.  2/. 

D  D  2  "  And 


404  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

"  And  now,  Sir,  (says  he)  give  me  leave  to  ask,  what 
"  service  have  you  done  to  religion  by  your  interpreta- 
"  tion?  We  were  prepared  for  it,  by  an  intimation  that 
"  something  was  to  ari.se  from  it  to  the  confusion  of 
"  infidelity  :  As  how?  why  first,  as  by  your  manner  of 
"  explaining  this  transaction  of  Abraham,  you  should 
"  illustrate  God's  truth  by  the  noblest  instance  that 
"  ever  teas  glcen  of  the  harmony  between  the  Old 
"  and  New  Testament"  And  2clly,  "  as  by  its  aid 
"  you  should  be  enabled  to  give  the  true  solution  of 
u  those  inexplicable  difficulties  which  have  been  so 
"  long  the  stujiibling-block  of  infidelity."  p.  157. 

And  now;  he  addresses  himself  to  shew,  that  my  in 
terpretation  has  neither  of  these  advantages.  "  First,  as 
"  to  the  hanr.opy  (he  says)  he  has  just  above  shewn  that 
"  the  transaction  will  be  equally  prophetic  of  Christ's 
"  sacrifice,  whether  my  interpretation  be  admitted  ©r 
"  not/'  He  hath  shewn  it  indeed!  as  the  Irishman 

shewed  his .    And  it  is  fresh  in  the  reader's  memory. 

Come  we,  then,  to  the  second.  (i  As  to  the  second 
"  (says  he)  the  difficulties  which  have  been  so  long  the 
"  stumbling-block  of  infidelity,  which  upon  the  foot  of 
"  the  coaunon  interpretation  you  call  insuperable;  I 
6i  greatly  marvel  that  you  should  call  them  so,  when  you 
•"  acknowledge,  in  the  very  same  page,  that  the  argu- 
**  moits  hitherto  brought  to  support  the  history  of 
u  this  command  are.  of  great  weight  and  validity!* 
•pp.157,  8.  ^°  warvds  !  Why  let  him  marvel.  I 
fciippoee  he  never  heard  that  there  are  insuperable  diffi- 
{•idiico  even  to  seine  demonbtrahle  propositions,  l^ut 
lie,  of  all  men,- should  have  accepted  my  concession  upon 
fail*  tcrirs,  since  it  vias  made  to  humour  Divines  like 
himself;  who  think  it  enough  for  religion  if  the  objections 
to  it  be,  as  lie  warily  expresses  it,  GUARDED  AGAINST: 
(p.  137.)  which,  God  knows!  they  often  are,  by  argu 
ments,  of  no.  great  weight  or  validity. 

XX.  However  ('say's  he)   "whether  you  had  owned 

"  this  or  not,  I  SHOULD  HAVE  TAKEN  UPON  MYSEEF 

v<c  THE  PROOF  thatthe'se  insuperable  difficulties  may  be 

"  very  ..effectually    and    substantially  removed,    without 

•^/borrowing    any  aid   from  .your  interpretation.      The 

•"  -substance  of  tiie  objection  to  the  historic  truth  of  this 

*'  relation, 


Remark  20.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  405 

•"  relation,  as  collected  by  yourselff,  .is  this,  That  Clod. 
"  could  never  give  such  a  command  to  Abraham,  be- 
"'cause  it  would  throw  him  into  incxiricable'dGulJts 
tf  concerning  the  author  of  it  ]  as  whether  it  pro- 
"  ceeded  from  a  good  or  evil  being-—  \ because}  if 
"  would  mislead  him  in  his  notions  of  the  Divine 
"  attributes,  and  of  the  fundamental  principles  oj 
^  morality.  For  though  the  revoking  the  comr.iaad 
*'c  prevented  the  homicide;  yet  the  action  being  com- 
"  manded,  and,  at  the  revocation,  not  condemned; 
"'  Abraham  and  his  family  must  needs  have  thought 
"'  human  sacrifices'  grateful  to  the  Almighty.  For 
ic  a  simple  revoking  was  no  condemnation ;  but  would 
"  be  more  naturally  esteemed  a  peculiar  indulgence 
^  for  ready  obedience.  Thus  the  Pagan  jable  of 
"  Diana's  substituting  a  hind  in  the  place  of  Iphige- 
4i  ma,  did  not  make  idolaters  believe  that  she  there- 
"  jore  abhorred  human  sacrifices,  they  having  be  jo  re 
"  been  persuaded  of  the  contrary'*  p.  158.  rihe 
objection,  the  reader  sees,  consists  of  two  parts  :  the 
0/;c,  that  Abraham  must  doubt  of  the  author  of  the 
•command:  the  -oilier,  that  he  would  be  misled  concern 
ing  his  attributes ;  or  in  the  gratefulness  of  human 
sacrifices  to  him. 

To  the  first,  our  Examiner  answers,  partly  from  what 
I  myself  had  observed  might  be  urged  by  believers,  as 
'of  great  weight  and  validity,  and  partly  from  what 
he  had  picked  up  elsewhere.  But  here  I  shall  avoid 
imitating  his  example,  in  endeavouring  to  shew  the 
invalidity  of  arguments  professedly  brought  in  support 
of  religion:  an  employment  by  no  means  becoming  a 
Christian  Divine.  If  they  have  any  weak  parts,  I  shall 
leave  them  to  unbelievers  to  find  out.  I  have  the  more 
reason  too  to  trust  them  to  their  own  ireiguf,  both  as 
they  are  none  of  his,  with  whom  only  I. have  here  to  do, 
and  as  I  have  acknowledged  their  validity.  All  I  shall 
observe  is,  that,  as  I  had  made  that  acknowledgment, 
I  see  not  to  what  end  they  are  urged  against  me ;  unless 
it  were  to  entertain  us  with  his  common-place :  which 
I  should  have  received  in  silence,  had  he  not  affected  to 
introduce  it  with  so  much  pomp — "  Whether  you  had 

*  Div.  Leg.  vol.  vi.  p.  30. 

p  D  3  "  owned 


" 


4o6  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

"  owned  this  or  not  (says  he)  I  should  have  taken  upon 
"  myself  the  proof."  Whereas,  all  that  he  has  taken  is 
the  property  oi  others  :  made  his  own,  indeed,  by  a  weak 
and  an  imperfect  representation. 

But  now  he  comes  to  the  second  part  of  the  objection. 
"  As  to  the  latter  part  of  the  objection  (says  he)  that 
"  from  this  command,  Abraham  and  his  family  must 
"  needs   have  thought  human   sacrifices  acceptable  to 
"  God;  the  revoking  the  command  at  last,  was  a  suflfi- 
"  cient  guard  against  any  such  construction.     To  this? 
"  you  make  the  unbeliever  answer  :  No  ;  because  the 
"  action  having  been  commanded  ought  to  have  been 
<c  condemned',   and  a  simple  revocation  was  no  con- 
"  demnation.     But  why  was  not  the  revocation  of  the 
IC  command,  in  this  case,  a  condemnation  of  the  action  ? 
"  If  I  should  tempt  ^ou  to  go  and  kill  your  next  neigh  - 
'  hour,  and  afterwards  come  and  desire  you  not  to  do 
"  it;  would  not  this  after-declaration  be  as  good  an 
evidence  of  my  dislike  to  the  action,  as  the  first  was  of 
my  approbation  of  it  ?     Yes,  and  a  much  better,  as  it 
"  may  bo  presumed  to  have  been  the  result  of  maturer 
"  deliberation.     Now  though   deliberation  and  after* 
"  thought  are  not  incident  to  God  ;  yet  as  God  in  this 
<c  case  condescended  (as  you  say,  and  very  truly)  to  act 
"  after   the   manner  of  men  ;  the   same   construction 
"  should   be   put   upon  his  actions,  as  are  usually  put 
"  upon  the  actions  of  men  in  like  cases."  pp.  160,  161. 
Now,  though,  as  was  said  above,  I  would  pay  all  decent 
regard  ami  reference  that  becomes  a  friend  of  Revelation, 
to   the  common  arguments  ol  others  in  its  defence,  yet 
I  must  not  betray  my  oicn.     I  confessed  they  had  great 
Weight  and  validity  ;  yet,  at  the  same  time,  I  asserted, 
they  were  attended  with  .imur,c  ruble  difficulties.     And 
while  I  so  U'ink,  I  must  beg  leave  to  intorce  my  reasons 
for  this  opinion.     And,   I  i)0j>e,  without  offence;  as  the 
arguments,  I  am  now  about  to  examine,  are  purely  this 
writer's  own.    And  the  reader  has,  by  this  time,  seen  too 
much  of  him  to  be   apprehensive,  that  the  lessening  his 
authority  will    be  attended  witii  any  great  disservice  to 
religion. 

I  ha  1  observed,  that  the  reasonings  of  unbelievers  on 
case,  as  it  is  commonly  explained,  were  not  devoid, 

of 


Remark  20.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  4P7 

of  all  plausibility,  when  they  proceeded  thus — That  as 
Abraham  lived  amongst  heathens,  whose  hkhe  t  act  of 

O  ' 

divine  worship  was  human  sacrifice ;  if  God  had  com 
manded  that  net,  and,  on  the  point  of  performance,  only 
remitted  it  as  a  favour  (and  so  it  is  represented) ;  without 
declaring  the  iniquity  of  the  practice,  when  addressed  to 
idols ;  or  his  abhorrence  of  it,  when  directed  to  himself; 
the  family  must  have  been  misled  in  their  ideas  con 
cerning  the  moral  rectitude  of  that  species  of  religious 
worship:  therefore,  God,  in  these  circumstances,  had  he 
commanded  the  action  as  a  trial  only,  would  have 
explicitly  condemned  that  mode  as  immoral.  But  he  is 
not  represented  as  condemning  but  as  remitting  it  in 
Jar  our  :  consequently,  say  the  unbelievers,  God  did  not 
command  the  action  at  all. — Now  what  says  our  Exa 
miner,  in  answer  to  all  this?  He  says, — "But  why? 
"  Was  not  the  revocation  of  the  command  a  condemna- 
<l  tion  of  the  action  ?  If  I  should  tempt  you  to  go  and 
(t  kill  your  next  neighbour,  and  afterwards  come  and 
"  DESIRE  you  not  to  do  it,  would  not  this  aitor-decla- 
"  ration  be  as  good  an  evidence  of  my  dislike  to  the 
"  action,  as  the  first  was  of  my  approbation  of  it? "  To 
this  I  reply ;  that  the  cases  are,  by  no  means,  parallel ; 
either  in  themselves,  or  in  their  circumstances:  1st.  Not 
in  themselves.  The  murder  of  our  next  neighbour  was, 
amongst  all  the  Gentiles  of  that  time,  esteemed  a  high 
immorality;  but,  on  the  contrary,  human  sacrifices  a 
very  holy  and  acceptable  part  of  divine  worship.  2dly, 
Not  in  their  circumstances.  The  desire  to  forbear  the 
murder  tempted  to  is  (in  the  case  he  puts)  represented  as 
repentance :  whereas  the  stop  put  to  the  sacrifice  of 
Isaac  is  (in  the  case  Moses  puts)  represented  a&Javtiur. 

But  what  follows  I  could  wish  (for  the  honour  of 
modern  theology)  that  the  method  I  have  observed  would 
have  permitted  me  to  pass  over  in  silence.  "  Now, 
"  though  deliberation  and  after-thought  (says  he)  are 
"  not  incident  to  God,  yet,  as  God,  in  this  case,  conde- 
"  scended  (as  you  say,  and  very  truly)  to  act  after  the 
"  manner  of  men ;  the  same  construction  should  be  put 
"  upon  his  actions,  as  are  usually  put  upon  the  actions 
"  of  men  in  like  cases:"  (pp.  155,  T5^0  l-  e-  though 
deliberation  and  offer-thought  are  not  incident  to  God ; 

D  D  4  yet 


4o8  REMARKS  OX  SEVERAL         [Part  II. 

yet  you  are  to  understand  his  actiors,  as  if  they  were 
incident.     A  horn  ^rotation!  A  .id  yet  his  repre 

sentation  of  the  cv>  (ftJdgnt  illustration  of 

it,  by  a  murder  in  mtttitivh)  /er  u^  to  rnter- 

prct  it  iri ';  cr.     lor  (iod,  as  it  in  haste, 

s.i A!  before;  &j£  deflbefa  A  as  command-' 

ii,,.:   an    in.:..  :: ;    jfel  IP  it  were'  by  an 

//,, .  cr-tiiont  '//<:,  orierm^  it  s'o  fft,  by  rea?on  of 

itb  immorality.  And  iti  what  is  aii  this  impious  janj^h 
founded?  If  you  will  believe  our  ixamincr;  on  tho 
principle  I  laid  oo^n,  lliat  God  cr,!>dctcends  1o  act 
ajter  tnc  manner  of  men.  I  have  all  along  had  occa 
sion  to  coini'-lJim  of  his  misrepresenting  my  principles, 
JBut  they  v\ere  principles  he  disliked.  And  this  the 
gipcjerp  managertie'hf  o5(  controversy  has  sancthied.  Eut 
here,  ihoi!^;;  the priiei;:^^hear'pr(..vcd,  heyetcannotfbrbcar 
iriisrepfe^^ehuii^  it.  So  bad  a  thing  is  an  evil  habit.  Let 
me  tell 'him  then  lore,  that  by  tlte  principle  of  God's 
coridtscetidiftgi  to  act  after  the  manner  of  men,  is  not 
meant  tliat  he  e\er  acts  in  compliance  to  those  vices  and 
puper&titiohs',  v»iiich  arise  ironi  the  depravity  oi  human 
wilt  :  '  u'  ^i  (x/nsorndty  only  to  men's  iiv:{i!?erer.t  m;ui- 
hers  and  c;  :  and  to  tliose  usages  wliirh  result  only 

from   the  '  fini-  'ons   of  ti'ieir   nature.      Thus 

th  --Dtrh,  as  in  ;  bdore  us,  God  was-  pleased,  in 

conformity  to  tk-ir  mode  of  information,  to  use  their 
c\i^'  n  of"  rc\o!u!^  u  cotntnand;  vet  he  never  conde- 
scendcd  to  imitate  (as  our  EXB -gainer  supposes)  the  irre- 
sol.it;  ni,  the  repentance,  and'  'norrors  of  conscience  of  a 
??;;>'•  !<jrer  in  intention.  \\  ia(%h  fpraeious  heaven !)  is 
'the  parallel  this  Divine  brings  to  illustrate  the  command 
to  .•\.bi'ti>t<r<v.  Ikit  he  L«d  n\ul  that  God  is  sometimes 
said  to  reptitt;  and  he  thought,  1  suppose,  it  answered 
to  that  repentance  which  the  stings  of  conscience  some- 
tl.vics  produce  in  bad  iuen.  Whereas  it  is  said,  in  con- 
tun.:  ity  to  a  good  n: agl;  iraie's  or  parent's  correction  of 
vice  i^i'st  to  tlireatrn  punishment;  and  then,  on  the 
oik.!  ier's  amendment,  to  remit  it. 

XXI.  1-ut  he  goes  on  without  any  signs  of  remorse. 

"  Ivor  •   Pagan  fable  of  Dianas  substituting  a 

*c  ,.:a-:  in  the  place  ol   Iphigenia  at  all  help  your  unbe- 

"  litvcr.     This  did  not;  say  they,  OR  YOU   TOR  THEM, 

12  "make 


Remark  2i.]   OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  409 

"  make  idolaters  believe  that  she  therefore  abhorred 
"  human  sacrifices.  But  do  n  ;t  they  themselves,  or  have 
"  not  you  assigned  a  very  proper  and  suflicient  reason 
"  why  it  did,  i.v£.  that  they  had  been  be /ore  pervaded 
"  of  the  contrary  ?  Where  human  sacrifices  make  a 
"part  of  the  settled  standing  refeion ;  the  refusal  to 
"  accept  a  human  sacrifice  in  one  instance  inny,  indeed, 
"  he  rathe r  looked  upon  as  a  particular  indulgence,  than 
"  as  a  declaration  agHUist  the  di'm<*  in  gross-  Lut  where 

o  c^         o 

"  the  thing  was  commanded  but  in  one  single  instance, 
"  and  tue  command  revoked  in  that  very  instance  (which 
"  is  our  present  ease),  such  revocation  in  ail.  reasonable 
"  construction-  is  as  effectual  a  condemnation  of  the  thing, 
"  as  if  God  had  to'id  Abraham,  in  so  many  words,  tiiat- 
"  lie  delighted  not  in  human  sacrifices."  p.  nil.  To 
come  to  our  Examiner's  half- buried  sense,  we  are  often 
obliged  to  remove,  or  at  least  to  sift  well,  the  rubbish  of 
his  words.  He  says,  the  revocation  was  an  effectual 
condemnation.  This  may  either  signify,  that  men  now 
free  from  the  prejudices  of  Pagan  superstition  may  see 
that  human  sacrifices  were  condemned  by  the  revocation 
of  the  command  :  or,  that  -Abraham  $  Jamily  could  see 
this.  In  the  first  sense,  I  have  nothing  to  do ,  \\ith  his 
proposition ;  and  in  the  second,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  to 
deny  it  was  an  effectual  condemnation.  With  how  good 
reason  let  the  reader  judge. 

Abraham,  for  the  great  ends  of  God's  providence, 
vras  called  out  of  an  idolatrous  city,  imected,  as  all  such 
cities  then  were,  with  this  horrid  superstition  He  was 
himseli  an  idolater,  as  appears  from  the  words  of  Joshua 
—Your  fathers  dwelt  on  the  other  side  of  the  flood 
in  old  time,  even  Terah  the  j  at  her  oj  Abraham,  and 
the  father  of  Nachor:  and  THEY  served  other  gods. 
And  I  took  your  father  Abraham*,  $c.  God,  in  the 
act  of  calling  him,  instructed  him  in  the  unity  of  his  na 
ture,  and  the  error  of  Polytheism:  as  the  great  principle, 
for  the  sake  of  which  (and  to  preserve  it  in  one  family 
•amidst  an  universal  overflow  of  idolatry)  he  was  called  out 
That  he  must  be  prejudiced  in  favour  of  his  country 
'superstitions,  is  not  to  be  doubted;  because  it  is  of 

*  Josh.  xxiv.  2, 3. 

human 


413  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II, 

human  nature  itself  to  be  so  :  and  yet  we  find  no  particular 
instruction  given  him,  concerning  the  superstition  in  ques 
tion.  Further,  the  noble  Author  of  the  Characteristics 
observes,  that  "  it  appears  that  he  was  under  no  extreme 
"  surprise  on  this  trying  revelation  ;  nor  did  he  think  of 
"  expostulating  in  the  least  on  this  occasion ;  when  at 
*  another  time  he  could  be  so  importunate  for  the  pardon 
"  of  an  inhospitable,  murderous,  impious,  and  incestuous 
"city*."  Insinuating  hereby,  that  this  kind  of  sacrifice 
was  a  thing  he  had  been  accustomed  to :  now  the  noble 
Author  observes  this,  upon  the  Examiners,  that  is,  the 
common  interpretation.  And  I  believe,  on  that  footing, 
he,  or  a  better  writer,  would  find  it  difficult  to  enervate 
the  observation.  Whereas  I  have  shewn  (in  the  place 
from  whence  I  have  here  quoted  it)  that  it  fails  together 
with  that  interpretation. 

Well ;  Abraham  is  now  in  the  land  of  Canaan  ;  and 
again  surrounded  with  the  same  idolatrous  and  inhuman 
sacrificers.  Here  he  receives  the  command  :  and,  on  the 
point  of  performance,  lias  it  countermanded  as  a  FA 
VOUR.  A  circumstance,  in  the  revocation,  which  I  must 
beg  the  Examiner's  leave  to  insist  upon ;  especially  when 
I  find  him  so  slippery  as,  at  every  turn,  to  forget  it ; 
that  is,  to  pass  it  over  in  silence,  without  either  owning  or 
denying.  As  indeed,  the  little  support  his  general 
argument  has,  in  any  place,  is  only  by  keeping  truth  out 
of  sight.  But  further,  the  favour  was  unaccompanied 
with  any  instruction  concerning  the  moral  nature  of  tiiis 
kind  of  sacrifice;  a  practice  never  positively  forbidden 
but  by  the  Law  of  Moses.  Now,  in  this  case,  I  would 
ask  any  candid  reader,  the  least  acquainted  with  human 
nature,  whether  Abraham  and  his  family,  prejudiced  as 
they  were  in  favour  of  human  sacrifices  (the  one,  by 
his  education  in  his  country  religion;  the  other,  by  their 
communication  with  their  Pagan  neighbours,  and,  as 
appears  by  Scripture,  but  too  apt  to  fall  into  idolatry) 
would  not  be  naturally  tempted  to  think  as  favourably  of 
human  sacrifices  as  those  Pagans  were,  who  understood 
that  Diana  required  Iphigenia ;  though  she  accepted 
a  hind  in  her  stead.  And  with  such  readers,  I,  finally, 

leave  it. 

*  Div.  Leg.  vol.  \i.  p.  37. 

XXII.  Our 


Remark  22.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  411. 

XXII.  Our  Examiner  having  now  shewn,  first,  That 
my  interpretation  is  not  founded  in  truth — Secondly, 
That  it  is  productive  of  no  utility :  he  comes,  in  good 
time,  to  the  third  and  last  part  of  his  Herculean  labour, 
to  shew,  that  it  makes  matters  worse  than  I  J'ound 
them  :  \vhich,  in  other  words,  we  shall  find,  will  amount 
to  this — That  the  common  interpretation  agrees  with  his 
system ;  but  that  mine  docs  not :  which  system,  by  the 
known  courtesy  of  controversy,  you  are  to  permit  him  to 
call  the  word  of  God. 

"  This,  Sir,  (ft ays  he)  is  the  substance  of  what  has 
"  been  or  may  he  offered,  in  answer  to  the  objections 
"  propounded  upon  the  common  foot  of  interpretation. 
"  Let  us  now  see  what  your  interpretation  affords  that  is 
"  better.  You  say  then  ;  That  the  command  could 
"  occasion  no  mistakes  concerning  the  divine  attri- 
"  butes,  because  it  teas  only  the  conveyance  of  an 
"  information  by  action  instead  oj  words  ;  in  conjor- 
ft  mity  to  the  common  mode  of  conversing  in  early 
"  times.  This  action  therefore  being  nvjre  scenery^ 
"  and,  like  words,  only  of  arbitrary  signification ;  it 
"  had  no  moral  import;  but  the  formality  of  that 
u  action,  which  has  no  moral  import,  is  seen  no  icay 
"  to  affect  the  moral  character  of  the  author. — All 
*'  this,  Sir,  is  admitted."  Very  well,  proceed.  "  In 
"  your  way  of  reckoning,  the  command  had  no  moral 
"  import ;  for  nothing  was  intended  to  be  done  to 
"  Abraham's  hurt  or  prejudice;  who,  as  you  tell  us, 
"  very  well  understood — how  the  scenical  rep  resent  a- 
"  tation  was  to  end\ — and  must  needs  conclude — 
"  either  that  God  would  stop  his  hand  when  he  came 
"to  give  the  sacrificing  stroke',  or  that — his  son, 
"  sacrificed  in  the  person  of  Christ,  was  IMMEDIATELY 
"  to  he  restoced  to  lije.  This  solution,  no  doubt, 
"  clears  up  every  thing  as  to  Abraham ;  and  conse- 
"  quentiy  removes  one  part  of  the  objection,  which  says  ; 
"  that  God  could  not  oive  such  a  command,  because  it 
"  inferred  a  violation  of  the  natural  law."  pp.  161,  162. 

Here  certainly  I  can  complain  of  nothing  but  my  ill 
fortune.  Ihis  is  the  first  time  the  Examiner  has  pleased 
tooKii  th«:t  I  have  removed  an  objection.  And  now, 
u*.,.cad  oi  rejoicing  in  the  honour  he  does  me,  I  have  a 

scruple 


412  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  II. 

scruple  of  conscience  about  accepting  it.  And  my. case 
is  this.  lie  says  I  have  removed  it  upon  this  principle 
of  mine,  that  the  command  /tad  no  moral  import.  But, 
alas !  in  crossing  the  proverb,  and  looking,  as  it  were, 
into  his  mouth)  (for  there  his  words  have  their  birth, 
land  not  from  his  heart}  I  find  he  foully  mistakes  the 
inclining  of  the  principle;  and,  what  is  worse,  seems  to 
give  his  own  wrong  meaning  to  me.  "  In  YOUR  w ay 
*•  of  reckoning,  the  command  had  no  moral  import;  FOR 
"  nothing  was  intended  to  be  done  to  Abraham's  hurt  or 
**  prejudice,"  l:ut  as  near  as  he  thinks  himself  to  me, 
he  is  a  mile  from  the  reason.  The  reason  why  I  say  it 
fa-ad  no  moral  import, was,  not  because  nothing  UY/.V 
done  to  Abraham's  hurt  or  prejudice  ;  Alas!  No:  but 
because  the  act  commanded  was,  both  in  the  intention 
of  God,  and  in  the  knowledge  of  Abraham,  a  mere 
scenical  representation,  and  not  a  religions  sacrifice : 
for  that  a  scenicxl  representation  has  nothing  of  that 
mor-:l  import  which  belongs  to  the  thing  represented. 
Let  the  gift,  then,  go  eurruit  or  not,  just  as  the  reader 
pleases.  I  find  I  have  little  reason,  to  be  anxious  ab;;ut 
its  value,  and  less  to  be  proud  of  the  honour :  for  he 
immediately  subjoins,  "  But  as  this  solution  removes  one 
"  difficulty,  it  creates  another,"  What,  another  in  favour 
of  infidelity  !  No.  Bui:  concerning  Abrahams  merit 
in  obedience.  Yet  his  purpose  is  here  to  shew,  that  my 
interpretation  can  do  nothing  against  an  infidel  objec 
tion  .;  whirl),  were  it  not  for  his  ansii'crs,  that,  as  he 
well  expresses  it,  stand  gutird  over  them,  might  run  no 
body-knows  whither.  So  that  still,  by  his  own  confession, 
mv  interpretation  has  removed  one  of  the  strongest 
.infidel  objections.  However,  as.  I  would  not  beiorc 
accept  this  honour  at  the  expence  of  truth ;  so  neither 
will  I  now  ut  the  expence  of  Abrahams  character.  Let 
us  enquire,  therefore,  into  this  new-created  difficulty, 
"it  ki  (says  he)  that  the  command  will  not  stand  with 
'".the  notion  of  a  trial,  in  one  point,  in  which  the 
"  history  itself  intimates  it  was  intended  as  such.  You 
"  tell  us  ;  that  Abraham,  in  expressing  his  extreme 
"  readiness  to  obey,  declared  a  jail  confidence  in  the 
"  promises  .oj  God\  ^which  is  very  true.  E&t  you  say 
"  nothirjg  of  ti&. virtue,  i.e.  of  Us  patience  and  self- 

<(  denial', 


Remark  22.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  4*3 

."  denial',  of  which,  yet,  this  command  was  intended  tf;  va 
"  trial.  The  very' words  of  the  command  shew  this.  Tc.te, 
"  /?os?  thy  son,  thine  ONLY  son  Isaac,  WHOM  THOU 
"  LOVEST.  Here  are  two  things  pointed  at,  as  standing 
"  in  the  way  to  hinder  Abraham  from  obeying  tiiLf  com- 
"  nwnd.  i.  The  assurances  which  God  had  given 'him, 

" "  that  Isaac  should  be  the  heir  of  the  'promises ;  ibr 
"  Isaac  was  Abraham's  ONLY -son,  not  by  birth  but  by 
<k  promise.  2.  His  natural  paternal  affection.  The 

.  "  first  difficulty  his  faith  was  to  remove ;  the  second  was 
"  to  be  conquered  by  his  resolution  and  fortitude. 
"  But  wlicr-^  I  ask;  was  Abraham^  resolution ;  if  he 
".  knew,,  either  that  God  would  not  suffer  the  command 

* "  to  be  put  in  execution ;  or  if  .lie  did,  that,  lie  should 
"  instantly  be  restored  to  him  ?  Resolution  is -shewed 

f/'  by  bearing  hard  •  things  ;  but  on  neither  of  these  sup- 
<f  positions  had  Abraham  -any  thing  in  expectation,  by 
"  which  he  could  be  a  sufferer."  p.  163.-  And  now  we 
see  how  willingly  he  was  misled,  when  he,  mistook  my 
reason,  whytheactionhad.no  moral  import;  and  say 
ing,  it  was  because  nothing  was  intended  to  be  dnue  ~to- 

, Abraham's  hurt  or  prejudice.  For  it  was  preparatory 
to  what  he.  here  undertakes  to  shew,  that,  according  to 

. .my  interpretation,. ^^^/^'^T?  had.no  room  to  exercise  his 
paternal  affection  ;  that  being  what  he  drives  at -by  ail  his 

.round-about  words.  But  to  proceed.  He  says,  "You 
"  tell  us  that  Abraham,  in  expressing  his  extreme  rea- 
"  dines.s  to  obey,  declared  a  lull  cpptiilehce  in  the  pro- 
"  mises  of  Gocl.  But  -you ^ say  nothing  of  his  virtue; 
"i.e.  of  his  PATIENCE  and  SELF-DENIAL,  of  WHICH 

'"  THIS  CO.MMAXD  V/AS    INTENDED  AS  A    TRIAL."       He 

says  very  true  I  said  nothing  of  it,  and  ,J:he  reason  was 
(not  thai:  I  thought  he  had  them  not,  but)  becaiise  holy 
Scripture  says  nothing  of  them*.  Bu'c  he  ttjls  mer 
though  Scripture  said  nothing*  it  pointed  to  them.  And 
•so  did  I,  if  he  goes  to  that.  Indeed,  I  neither  . w id  nor 
pointed  at  anything  so  absurd,  as  that the  command 
icas  intended  as  a  trial  of  his  patience  and  self-denial^ 
because  Scripture  represents  it  as  a  trial  of  his  faith 
Qnly.  BY  FAITH  ABRAHAM  WHEN  HE  WAS  TRIED 

*  S(je  what  the  Letter-writer  has  very  pertinently  replied  to  this 
purpose,  p.  7 2. 

offered 


4U  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

offered  up  Isaac,  says  the  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews.  But  I  won't  promise  what  I  shall  not  do  for 
the  future.  I  think  it  deserves  to  he  pointed  at.  But 
he  says  I  speak  of  Abrahams  faith,  and  say  nothing  of 
his  virtue.  It  is  commonly  said,  indeed,  that  patience 
/-v  a  virtue  ;  but  it  is  as  true  that  i'aith  is  one  aNo. 
Though  he  may  be  in  the  number  of  those  subtile  school 
men  the  Poet  speaks  of,  for  aught  I  know, 

"  Who  faith  and  virtue,  sense  and  reason  split, 
With  all  the  rash  dexterity  of  wit." 

Yet,  for  all   this,    I  own,    that    the   great  merit  of 
Abrahams  faith  implied  in  \\,  patience  BxSflFsclf-dcniaL 

Let  us  hear  then  how  I  have  lessened  these  virtues. 
Why  then  "  hear  (says  our  Examiner)  what  the 
"  Author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  says ;  who  best 
'  "  understood  this  matter.  Ky  J'aith,  Abraham  when 
"  he  teas  tried,  offered  itp  Isaac;  and  he  that  had  re- 
"  cehcd  the  promise* ,  offered  ///;  his  only  begotten 
"  son ;  of  it'hom  it  teas  xaid,  thai  in  Isaac  shall  thy 
"  seed  be  called',  accounting,  that  Gcd  teas  able  to 
"  raise  him  up  even  from  the  dead.  Heb.  XL  17,  18,  19, 
^  It  is  in  the  nature  of  the  thing,  necessary  to  be  sup- 
"  posed  ;  that  Abraham  was  firmly  persuaded,  either, 
44  that  God  uould  revoke  the  command  ;  or,  that  he 
"  would  raise  up  his  son  from  the  dead ;  for  otherwise 
"  the  promise  could  never  stand.  The  Apostle  teUs  you 
4i  precisely,  winch  of  these  he  believed  ;  viz.  that  it  was, 
"  tliat  Gcd  would  raise  haac  from  the  dead  And  this 
"  agrees  with  the  character  thai:  the  Scripture  gives  of 
"  Abraham's  faith;  his  believing  AGAINST  HOPE,  /.  e. 
"  against  all  the  appearances  or  probabilities  of  human 
"  things.  "\Vhen  haac  was  born,  he  received  him  from 
"  the  dead:  i.e.  from  a  dead  womb.  Supposing  him 
"  slain,  he  believed  that  he  should  again  receive  him 
"  from  the  dead;  and  this  again  was  believing  AGAINST 
4k  HOPF.  ;  for  one  was  as  much  against  the  natural  course 
"  of  tilings,  as  the  other.  But  pray  observe  this  Sir; 
44  the  Apostle  does  not  say,  that  Abraham  accounted 
44  that  God  would  raise  his  son  IXSTAXTLV.  He  might 
"  (for  anujit  Abraham  knew,  or  had  any  reason  to  hope 
"  to  ihe  .coplrarv)  be  FOR  EVER  lost  10  HIM;  though 

u  he 


Remark  22.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  415 

**  he  was  assured  he  could  not  be  so  lost  as  that  the 
"  promise  of  God  should  fail ;  upon  which  foot,  there 
"  will  be  room  left  for  all  that  disturbance  from  passion 
"  and  natural  affection,  which  every  father  feels  upon 
"  the  loss  of  a  beloved  child;  and  consequently,  matter 
"  left  for  the  exercise  of  his  virtue.  It  suits  best  indeed, 
"  with  your  hypothesis,  to  say,  that  Abraham  believed 
"  that  his  son  should  be  raised  INSTANTLY.  For  if  this 
"  whole  transaction  was  a  scenical  representation,  to 
"inform  Abraham  of  the  sacrifice  of  Christ',  and  if 
"  this  (as  you  say,*)  was  the  principal  design  of  the 
"  command ;  the  information  once  given,  the  scenery 
"  ought  to  be  at  an  end.  And  this  is  one  reason,  among 
<c  others,  why  I  cannot  believe  your  account  to  be  the 
"  true  one ;  because  it  destroys  the  force  and  virtue  of 
"  the  command,  considered  as  a  trial  of  Abrahams 
*'  resolution  and  self-denial ;  which  nevertheless,  the 
"  very  history  plainly  intimates  to  us,  it  was  intended  to 
"  be,"  pp.  163  —  165. 

But  now  when  I  thought  he  was  going  to  prove  that 
Abraham  had  these  virtues  of  patience  and  self- denial ^ 
.he  is  got  upon  quite  another  scent ;  and  has  started  two 
other  virtues,  his  resolution  and  his  fortitude. — ''  The 
"  first  difficulty  his  faith  was  to  remove  ;  the  second  was 
"  to  be  conquered  by  his  RESOLUTION  and  FORTITUDE/* 
But  what  must  be  my  difficulty  all  this  while,  who  have 
-to  do  with  such  a  writer !  Shall  I  examine  what  he  says 
to  Abrahams  patience  and  self -denial  f  Come .  on 
then.  But  now  they  are  of  a  sudden  turned  to  resolu 
tion  void  fortitude  !  Shall  I  seize  upon  his  resolution 
and  fortitude  ?  In  vain.  Before  he  gets  to  the  end 
of  his  argument,  they  are  changed  into  resolution  and 
self-denial.  "  The  command  (he  says)  is  to  be  con- 
"  sidered  as  a  trial  of  Abraham^  RESOLUTION  and  SELF- 
"  DENIAL."  And  so  the  two  pair  of  virtues,  patience 
and  self-denial^  and  resolution  and  fortitude,  have 
fairly  compromised  the  matter.  And  at  last  it  is  agreed, 
as  in  a  Whig  and  Tory  election,  that  resolution  and 
tidf-deniat  shall  stand  each  *br  the  other's  representative. 
Matters  therefore  being  now  well  settled,  here  we  shall 
icave  them.  For  there  is  the  same  reverence  due  to  the 
*  D.iv.  Leg.  vol.  vi.  p.  28.  ' 

nonsense 


4i6  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL         [Part  II. 

iwnseri-se  of  great  writers,-  as  the  honest  translator  of 
Saliust  has  trmgiit  us  to  be  due  to  the  corruption  of 
great  ministers.  Therefore,  what  he  says  ot  this  latter 
quality  may  not  be  unfitly  applied-  to  the  former,  that 
"  what  sounds  like  nonsense  muy  not  he  nonsense  :  and 
"  it  is  not  so  much  the  act,  as  the  characters  of  men 
"  that  constitute  it*." — But  as  I  can  make  nothing  of 
his  words,  I  will  try  to  pick  out  his  meaning;  which, 
after  all,  seems  to  accuse  me  of  leaving  Abraham 
neither  patience  nor  self-denial :  and  is  founded  in 
this,  that,  according  to  the  common  interpretation,  as 
Abraham  did  not  know  when  Isaac  would  be  restored 
to  him,  "  tiicre  was  room  left  for  all  that  disturbance 
"  from  passion  and  natural  affection,  which  every  .father 
"feels  upon  the  loss  of  a  beloved  child;  and  conse- 
<c  quently  exercise  for  his  virtue."  But  on  my  interpre 
tation  (that  Abraham  knew  his  son  must  bcsooii  restored 
to  him)  there  was  no  room,  it  seems,  for  the  exercise  of 
these  virtues.  And  now,  what  is  here  worth  answering  ? 
-In  both  cases  Abrahams  faith  had  the  same  trial. 
And  this  is  allowed.  And  had  not  his  paternal  affec 
tion  ?  In  neiiher  case  did  he  know,  but  that  his  son 
was  to  receive  the  .sacrificing  stroke.  And  was  not  the 
paternal  affection,  as  much  interested  in  receiving  him  to 
life  after  three  days,  as  after  three  years  ?  Supposing, 
(as  is  granted)  that  his  faith  in  God's  promises  was 
exactly'the  same  in  both  cases.-  How  then  does  the 
reader  think  our  Examiner  supports  his  chicane?  How? 
but  in  that  way  all  chicane  is  supported.  By  represent 
ing  both  cas'Gs  falsely.  Under  the  common  interpretation, 
lie  represents  it  thus,—  "  Isaac  might  (for  aught  Abrah am 
"  knew,  or  had  any  reason  to  hope  to  the  contrary)  bo 
"  FOR  EVKII  LOST  TO  THAI."  And  he  tells  me,  "  it  suits 
"  best  with  my  hypothesis,  to- say  that  Abraham  believed 
"  that liis  son  should  be  raised  INSTANTLY."  pp.  164,1 (i> 
I  know  of  nothing  that  suits  so  well  with  my  hypothec* 
as  truth ;  nor  nothing  so  ill  with  it,  as  our  Examiner's 
understanding.  What  shall  I  say!  Or  rather  what  shall 
I  not  say.  6  patience!  I  feel  thoa  art  a  virtue,  as 

*  "  What  sounds  like  corruption  may  not  be  corruption ;  and 
"  it  is  not  so  much  the  act,  as  the  characters  of  ruen  that  consti- 
"  tute  it.''  Gord.  Trausl.  of  Sail.  Pol,  Disc.  p.  97- 

our 


Remark  2 j.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  4*7 

our  Examiner  truly  calls  thee. — What?  do  not  those 
very  words  of  Scripture,  of  which  the  Examiner  serves 
himself  in  support  of  the  common  interpretation,  ac 
counting  that  God  was  abk  to  raise  him  up  even  from 
the  dead,  imply,  in  all  common  construction,  that  Abra 
ham  accounted,  or  believed,  or  had  reason  to  hope,  that 
Isaac  was  NOT  FOR  EVER  LOST  TO  HIM  ?  But  it  could 
not  be  otherwise  even  upon  our  Examiner's  own  inter 
pretation,  who  in  p.  148,  makes  the  receiving  from  the 
dead  an  allusion  to  the  dead  womb  of  Sarah ;  for,  accord 
ing  to  this  sense,  which,  he  tells  us,  he  prefers  to  any 
other,  the  writer  of  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews  could 
never  suppose  (whatever  our  Examiner  does)  that  Abra 
ham  might  fear  that  Isaac  would  be  for  ever  lost  to  him. 
For  the  argument,  According  to  his  conception  of  the 
Apostle's  sense,  runs  thus, — Abraham  received  Isaac  out 
of  Sarah's  dead  womb ;  so  he  hoped  to  receive  him  again 
from  the  ashes  of  the  sacrifice.  Thus  does  this  Examiner, 
at  every  turn,  forget  his  own  principles :  or,  rather, 
having  no  principles  of  his  own,  he  perceives  not  that  he 
takes  the  contradictory  principles  of  others.  Again,  does 
not  my  interpretation,  which  supposes  that  Abraham 
well  understood  that  this  commanded  action  was  a 
scenical  representation  of  Christ's  sacrifice  on  the  cross, 
necessarily  imply  that  Abraham  knew  no  more  than  that, 
as  the  Redeemer  of  Mankind  could  not  lie  under  the 
power  of  the  grave ;  so,  his  representative,  even  though 
he  received  the  sacrificing  stroke,  would  not  ?  Should 
he,  therefore,  have  so  prevaricated  as  to  insinuate,  that  I 
used  the  word  instantly  in  the  sense  of  momentaneously ; 
when  my  argument  shews  I  used  it  in  opposition  to  a 
distant  time  ?  If  the  stroke  had  been  given,  we  know, 
it  could  not  have  been  till  the  third  day  at  least.  And 
in  this  time  I  hope  there  was  "  room  enough  left  for  all 
"  that  disturbance  from  passion  and  natural  affection 
"  which  everv  father  feels  upon  the  loiS  of  a  beloved 
"child."  pp. "164,  165, 

After  all  this,  could  the  candid  or  sensible  reader  con 
ceive  it  possible  that  our  Examiner  should  end  his, 
argument  in  the  following  strain  ?  "  So  that  in  taking, 
"  one  handle  away  froin  unbelievers,  you  have  given 
"  them  another.  For  if,  upon  the  foot  of  the  common, 

Vot.  XL  li  E  "  interpretation, 


418  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

"  interpretation,  they  think  they  see  a  violation  of  the 
tc  natural  law ;  they  may,  upon  your  interpretation, 
*'  alledge  an  inconsistency  of  the  Scriptures  with  them- 
"  selves :  and  I  apprehend,  Sir,  that  it  is  a  much  easiei 
"  thing  to  shew  that  the  command  carries  no  violation  oj 
"  the  natural  law,  the  common  interpretation  admitted; 
"  than  it  will  be  to  reconcile  your  hypothesis  to  the 
*'  Scripture  account  of  this  matter.  So  much  has  Chris- 
"  tianity  gained  by  your  interpretation  !  "  p.  165. — But 

I  leave  him  to  the  reader's  mercy. 

XXIII.  "  But  this  is  not  the  greatest  difficulty  you 

II  have  to  account  for  (says  he).     The  objection  relates 
"  not  to  Abraham  only,  but  also  to  his  family ;  who  (as 
"  you  have  made  your  unbeliever  say)   MUST  NEEDS 
"  have   thought  human  sacrijices  acceptable  to   God: 
"  because  the  action  w  as  not  formally  condemned  at  the 
"  revocation  of  the  command.     I  do  think,  Sir,  that  il 
*'  would  be  a  very  considerable  objection  to  this  history; 
"  if  it  did  give  any  reasonable  encouragement  to  the 
41  belief,  that  human  sacrifices  were  acceptable  to  God; 
"  and  I  have  given  my  reason  why  I  think  it  cannot  give 
"  any  such  encouragement ;  which  is  that,  in  this  case, 
"  the  revocation  of  the  command,  without  any  formal 
"  condemnation   of  the   action,    is   sufficient   to   guard 
*f  against  any  such  abuse.     Whether  you  agree  with  me 
"  in  this  principle,  or  whether  you  are  of  the  infidel  side 
"  of  the  question  in  this  particular  point,  you  have  nol 
"  told  us  ;  nor  shall  I  take  upon  me  to  guess.     But  you 
"  are  fully  persuaded,   that,   upon  your  hypothesis,  the 
"  objection  is  entirely  removed.     Your  words  are  these ; 
"  There  was  not  the  least  occasion,  when  God  remittee 
"  the  offering  of  Isaac,  that  he  should  formally  condemn 
"  human  sacrifices^  to  prevent  Abraham,  OR  HIS  FAMI- 
"  LY'S  falling  into  an  opinion,  that  such  sacrifices  zccrt 
*'  not  displeasing  to  him — For  the  command,  having,  at 
"  we  said,  no  moral  import ;  being  only  an  information  by 
"  action,  where  one  thing  stood  for  the  representative  ej 
*'  another ;  all  the  consequence  that  could  be  deduced 
"from  it  was  only  this ;  that  the  Son  of  God  should  bt 
4t  offered  up  for  the  sins  of  mankind:  therefore  the  con- 
"  ceptions  THEY  [Abraham,  m.- AND  HIS  FAMILY]  hai> 
i(  of  human  sacrifices  after  the  command,  must  needs  bt 

"just 


Remark  23-]   OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  419 

44  just    the   same  'which   they  had  before ;    and  there- 
"fore,  instruction  concerning  the  execrable  nature  of 
"  human    sacrifices  was   not    only    needless,    but   (quite 
"  beside  the  question*.     I   can  easily  understand,  Sir, 
"how  the   matter  stood  with  Abraham ;  and  that  HE 
"  was  in  no  danger  of  being  misled,  as  to  the  nature  of 
"  human  sacrifices,  who  knew  the  secret  of  the  whole 
41  affair  ;  and  that  it  was  nothing  else  but  scenery.     But 
41  how  this  answer  will  serve  for  his  family ;  who  are  to 
4i  be  presumed  to  have  known  nothing  of  this  scenical 
"  representation,   is  utterly  past  my  comprehension.     I 
"  say  that  the  family  of  Abraham  must  be  presumed  to 
"  have  known  nothing  of  this  scenical  representation; 
41  because  you  have  told  us  from  the  very  first,  that  the 
"  information   to  be  conveyed  by  it  was  intended  for 
"  Abrahams  S,OLE  USE  ;  and  I  do  not  see  how  Abraham 
"  could  open  to  his  family  the  scenery  of  the  transaction, 
"  without  explaining   the  mystery.     Accordingly,  your 
"  answer,  in  this  very  passage,  imports,  that  Abrahams 
"family,  as  well  as  himself,  were  acquainted  with   this 
"  mystery;    for  you   say  that  ail  the  consequence  that 
"  COULD  be  deduced  from  this  transact! on. was,  that  the 
4i  Son  of  God  should  be  offered  up  for  the  sins  of  man* 
"  kind.     All  the  consequence  that  could  be  deduced ! 
41  By  whom?     Why,  by  the  family  of  Abraham ;  for  to 
"  them,  as  well  as  to  Abraham,  does  the  inference,  which 
"  you    immediately  subjoin,   belong — THEREFORE   the 
"  conceptions  THEY  had  of  human  sacrifices  must  needs 
"  be  just  the  same,  £c.     But  is  not  your  putting  the 
"family  of  Abraham  in  possession  of  this  consequence 
"  a  very  plain  declaration,   that  they  knew  the  mystery 
"  of  Christ's  sacrifice  !     Now  therefore,   Sir,  take  you* 
*{  choice,  and  give  up  one  part  of  your  hypothesis,  or  the 
"  other,  as  best  pleases  you ;  tor  to  hold  both  is  impos- 
41  sible.     If  you  say  that  the  family  of  Abraham  WERE 
"  acquainted  with  the  mystery  of  Christ's  sacrifice ;   it 
"  will  overturn  all  you  have  said  concerning  their  igno- 
"  ranee  of  a  future  state:  for  to  what  purpose  the  Sou 
"  of  God  was  to  be  offered  up  for  the  sins  of  mankind, 
"  if  no  life  is  to  be  expected  after  this,  it  is  impossible 
"  to    comprehend.      It    likewise   overturns   the  single 

*  Div.Leg.  vol.  vi.  pp.  33, 34. 

E  E  2  "  reason 


420  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

:<  reason  you  have  given  why  the  explanation  (usual  in 
"  all  such  cases)  to  shew  the  import  of  the  transaction 
:<  was  not  added,  viz.  that  it  was  a  point  not  jit  for  com- 
"  mon  knowledge.  But  if  you  shall  chuse  to  say,  that 
:<  the  revelation  of  this  mystery,  was  for  the  SOLE  infor- 
''  mation  of  Abraham,  and  that  his  family  knew  nothing 
"  of  it  (which  I  think  you  must  say,  to  make  your  inter- 
:'  pretation  good),  the  objection  will  lie  full  against  you, 
"  unanswered.  For  upon  this  supposition,  they  must 
:{  have  considered  this  transaction,  not  in  your  artificial, 
"  hidden  light,  but  in  its  apparent ,  natural  light;  and 
<f  the  construction  in  favour  of  human  sacrilices  must 
r<(  have  been  the  very  same,  as  if  no  such  representation 
."  as  you  speak  of  had  been  intended."  pp.  165 — 168. 

"  Whether  (say*  he)  you  agree  with  me,  or  ARE  OF 
"  THE  INFIDEL  SIDE  OF  THE  QUESTION."  A  dire  di 
lemma  !  to  which  he  reduces  all  his  adversaries.  Agree 
not  with  him,  and  you  are  at  once  on  the  injidel  side  of 
the  question. 

"  Qui  meprise  Cotin,  n'estime  point  son  Roi, 
"  Et  n'a,  scion  Cotin,  ni  Dieu,  ni  foi,  ni  loi. 

But  if  this  be  my  alternative,  sit  anima  mea  cum  philo 
sophic,  as  was  said  on  the  like  occasion  ;  they  are  much 
the  better  company. — I  believed  that  an  infidel  objection 
to  the  command  to  Abraham,  on  the  common  interpre 
tation  of  it,  had  weight;  and  I  explain  the  force  of  it,  in 
order  to  remove  it;  and  to  excite  other  defenders  of 
Revelation  to  consider  it :  for  which,  it  seems,  I  am 
of  the  injidel  side  of  the  question. 

I  had  said,  that  the  command  was  for  Abrahams  sole 
juse ;  and  "  therefore  (he  says)  that  the  family  of  Abraham 
"  must  be  presumed  to  know  nothing  of  this  scenical 
"  representation."  Notwithstanding  this,  I  presume  they 
did  know  it.  Here  he  takes  me  in  a  flagrant  contradiction. 
But  did  he  indeed  not  see  that  where  I  spoke  of  its  being 
given  for  Abrahams  sole  use,  I  was  opposing  it,  (as  the 
course  of  my  argument  required),  not  to  the  family  which 
lived  under  his  tents,  but  to  the  Jewish  people,  when  the 
history  of  the  transaction  was  recorded  *. — And  now 

having 

*  Here  the  Letter-writer,  so  often  mentioned    before,  is  quite 
scandalized  j  and  cannot  forbear  breaking  out  at  p.  77 — "  I  declare 

"it, 


Remark  23-3  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  421 

having  exposed  his  wrong  conclusion  from  my  words,  let 
us  consider  next  the  wrong  conclusion  he  draws  from  his 
warn.  u  I  do  not  see  (says  he)  how  Abraham  could  open 
*  to  his  family  the  scenery  of  the  transaction  without 
"  explaining  the  mystery."  What  does  he  mean  by, 
"  open  the  scenery  of  the  transaction  ?"  There  are  two 
senses  of  this  ambiguous  expression;  it  may  signify, 
either  explaining  the  moral  of  the  scenery ;  or  simply, 
telling  his  family  that  the  transaction  was  a  scenical 
representation.  He  could  not  here  use  the  phrase  in  the 
first  sense,  because  he  makes  explaining  the  mystery  a 
thing  different  from  opening  the  scenery.  He  must  mean 
it  then  in  the  latter.  But  could  not  Abraham  tell  his 
family,  that  this  was  a  scenical  representation.,  without 
explaining  the  mystery  ?  I  don't  know  what  should 
hinder  him,  unless  it  were  a  charm.  If  he  had  the  free 
use  of  speech,  I  think,  he  might,  in  the  transports  of  his 
joy,  on  his  return  home,  tell  his  wife,  "  that  God  had 
"  ordered  him  to  sacrifice  his  son,  and  that  he  had  carried 
"  him  to  Mount  Moriah,  in  obedience  to  the  Divine 
"  command,  where  a  ram  was  accepted  in  his  stead. 
"  But  that  the  whole  was  a  mere  scenical  representation, 
"  or  figure,  of  a  mysterious  transaction  which  God  had 
(t  ordained  to  come  to  pass  in  the  latter  ages  of  the 
"  world."  And  I  suppose  when  he  had  once  told  his 
wife,  the  family  would  soon  hear  of  it.  Now  could  they 
not.  understand,  what  was  meant  by  a  scenical  represen 
tation,  as  well  when  lie  told  them  it  was  to  prefigure  a 
mystery,  as  if  he  had  told  them  it  was  to  prefigure  the 
CrucjjLvicm  of  Jesus?  The  explanation,  here  given,  had 
I  no  other  way  of  -blunting  his  dilemma  (for  if  I  escape 
his  contradiction,  he  has  set  his  dilemma,  which,  he  says, 
'tis  impossible  I  should  avoid)  had  I  nothing  else,  I  say, 
'tis  very  likely  I  should  have  insisted  upon  this  :  but  there 

are 

*'  it,  if  you  be  Dr.  S ,  I  am  perfectly  astonished  at  you/'     But 

«o  am  not  I.  The  good  man  knows  nothing  of  the  contagion  of 
controversy.  He  seems  to  have  studied  his  profession  with  an 
intent  only  of  coming  to  the  truth  ;  and  he  speaks  from  the  heart. 
His  whole  pamphlet  is  a  learned  and  well-argued  performance : 
and  if  he  has  been  more  attentive  to  the  force  of  his  reasoning 
than  to  the  ornaments  of  his  language,  the  lovers  of  truth  have  the 
more  to  thank  him  for,  as  he  gives  her  to  them  undressed,  and  puts 
£  gloss  upon  nothing, 

*  E  3 


422  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  I L 

are  more  ways  than  one  of  taking  him   by  his  horns. 
'  Now  therefore  (says  he)  take  your  choice,  and  give 
"  up  one  part  of  your   hypothesis  or  the  other,   as  best 
:c  pleases   you;    FOR  TO   HOLD   DOTH  is   IMPOSSIBLE. 
"  If  you  say  that  the  family  of  Abraham  were  acquainted 
"  with  the  mystery,  it  will  overturn  all  you  said  concern- 
"  ing  their  ignorance  of  a  future  state. — But  if  you  shall 
"  chuse  to  say  that  the  revelation  of  the  mystery  was  foF 
"  the  sole  information  of  Abraham,  and  that  his  family 
"  knew  nothing  of  it,  then — the  construction  in  favour  of 
"  human  sacrifices  must  have  been  the  very  same  as  if  no 
"  such  representation,  as  you  speak  of,  had  been  intended." 
I  desire  to  know  where  it  is  that  I  spoke  ANY  THING 
concerning  Abraham's  family  s   ignorance  of  a  future 
state;  and  therefore  call  upon  him,  for  the  0tJTtj)  atllr 
lagt  tittlC,  to  name  the  place.     But,  I  am  afraid,  some 
thing  is  wrong  here  again  :  and  that,  by  Abrahams  family, 
he  means  the  Israelites  under  Moses" s  policy.     For,  with 
regard  to  them,   I  did  indeed  say  that  the  gross  body  of 
the  people  were  ignorant  of  a  future  state.     But  then  I 
supposed  them  equally,  ignorant  of  the  true  import  of  the 
command  to  Abraham.     But,  if,  by  Abrahams  family, 
he  means,  as  every  man  docs,  who  means  honestly,  those 
who  resided  with  him  under  his  tents,   I  suppose  them 
indeed  acquainted  with  the  true  import  of  the  command ; 
but  then,  at  the  same  time,  not  ignorant  of  a  future  state. 
Thus  what  our  Examiner  had  pronounced  IMPOSSIBLE, 
was,  it  seems,  all  the  while  very  possible.     And,  in  spite 
of  his  dilemma,   both  parts  of  the  hypothesis  were  at 
peace.     I  can  hardly  think  him  so  grossly  immoral  as  to 
have  put  this  trick  upon  his  reader  with  design ;  I  rather 
think  it  was  some  confused  notion  concerning  the  Popish 
virtue  of  TRADITION  (that  trusty  conveyancer  of  truth) 
which  led  him  into  all  this  absurdity;  and  made  him  con 
clude,  that  what  Abrahams  family  once  knew,  their  pos 
terity  could  never  forget.     Though  the  written  word  tells 
us,  that  when  Moses  \\-as  sent  to  redeem  this  posterity 
from  bondage,  they  remembered  so  little  of  God's  reve 
lations  to  their  forefathers,  that  they  knew  nothing  even 
of  his  nature. 

XXIV.  Our  Examiner  now  concludes  his  Conside 
rations  (which  we  have  quoted  word  for  word  in  order  as 
2  they 


Remark  24.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  42 j 

they  lie,  without  curtailing  or  abridging)  in  this  manner. 
"  Thus,  Sir,  it  appears,  that  what  was  well  before,  comes 
"  out  bad,  from  under  your  hands.  Which  confirms  to 
"  me  what  I  have  often  thought;  that  experiments  in 
"  religion  are  seldom  good  for  any  thing.  The  truth  of 
"  this  whole  case,  appears  to  me  in  this  plain  light.  God 
"  called  Abraham  to  this  great  trial;  to  make  him  an 
"  example  of  faith  and  resignation.  Abraham  obeys 
*'  God's  call;  under  a  full  persuasion  that  his  son  was 
"  lost  to  him  ;  and  yet  as  fully  assured  that  the  promises 
44  of  God  should  not  fail.  In  this  view  he  is  an  example 
"  of  both  ;  and  thus  much  the  Scriptures  warrant.  We, 
"  who  see  the  resemblance  between  this  case,  and  God's 
"  requiring  his  only  Son  to  be  offered  up  as  a  sacrifice 
"  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world,  rightly  say,  that  the  one 
"  was  intended  to  be  the  figure  of  the  other.  But  whe- 

J  O 

*'  ther  Abraham  knew  any  tiling  at  all  of  Chrises  sacri- 
"Jice;  or  whether  he  knew  nothing',  the  Scripture  is 
"  wholly  silent;  and  YOU  ought  to  have  been  silent  too. 
"  It  is  lit  for  us  to  stop  where  the  Scripture  stops — and 
"  let  infidelity  do  its  worst."  p.  1 69. 

"  What  was  well  before,  comes  out  bad,"  it  seems, 
**  under  my  hand ;"  which  confirms  him  in  a  "  Thought 
"  he  often  had;  THAT  EXPERIMENTS  IN  RELIGION  ARK 
"  SELDOM  GOOD  FOR  ANY  THING."  By  the  way,  though,- 
this  seems  but  an  odd  compliment  to  the  many  fine 
experiments,  which  a  great  Prelate  of  his  acquaintance 
has  made  in  religion.  However,  that  he  often  had  this 
thought,  I  do  not  at  all  doubt.  The  thing  I  least  ex 
pected  was,  that  he  should  venture  to  tell  his  thoughts. 
But,  in  the  paroxysm  of  answering,  out  it  carne;  and 
from  a  man  not  the  best  formed  by  nature  aperto  viverc 
voto.  Writers,  indeed,  have  differed  much  how  these 
EXPERIMENTS  should  be  made.  Some  would  have 
Scripture  alone  employed  in  making  them:  others  were 
for  taking  in  falters  and  councils ;  and  some  again  for 
applying  raillery  and  ridicule  to  the  work.  But  I  know 
of  no  Protestant  till  our  Examiner,  who  ever  talked  against 
the  thing  itself.  That  language  had  been  now,  for  near 
two  hundred  years,  confined  to  the  walls  of  the  Inquisi 
tion.  For  what  is  making  experiments  in  religion,  but 
illustrating  it  by  new  arguments,  arising  from  new  dis 
coveries 


424  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II 

coveries  made  of  the  harmony  in  God's  various  dispen* 
sations  to  mankind ;  just  as  philosophers  unfold  nature, 
by  new  enquiries  into  the  contents  of  bodies?  No 
EXPERIMENTS,  is  the  language  indeed  of  POLITICIANS 
(for  in  some  things  bigotry  and  politics  agree ;  as  extremes 
run  easily  into  one  another,  by  their  very  endeavour  to 
keep  at  distance)  because,  according  to  the  politician's 
creed,  religion  being  useful  to  the  state,  and  yet  not 
founded  in  truth,  all  inquiries  tend,  not  to  confirm,  but 
to  unsettle,  this  necessary  support  of  civil  government. 
But  can  a  man  who  believes  religion  to  have  come  from 
God,  use  this  language  !  If  he  pretends  to  believe,  and 
will  yet  talk  at  so  scandalous  a  rate,  let  me  ask  him,  how 
it  comes  to  pass,  that  experiments,  which  do  such  service 
in  our  advancement  in  the  knowledge  of  nature,  should 
succeed  so  ill  in  religion?  Are  not  both  equally  the 
works  of  God  ?  Were  not  both  given  to  be  the  subject 
of  human  contemplation?  Have  not  both,  as  proceeding 
from  the  Great  Master  of  the  Universe,  their  depths  and 
darknesses  ?  And  does  not  the  unveiling  the  secrets  of 
his  Providence  tend  equally  with  the  unveiling  the  secrets 
of  his  workmanship,  to  the  advancement  of  his  glory  ? 
Have  not  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God  been  won 
derfully  displayed,  in  these  latter  ages,  to  the  confusion 
of  Atheism,  by  some  noble  experiments  made  in  nature  ? 
And  why  should  not  the  same  wisdom  and  goodness  be 
equally  displayed,  to  the  confusion  of  Deism,  by  experi 
ments  made  in  religion?  I  believe  I  should  not  be 
accused  of  vanity,  even  by  our  Examiner  himself  in  his 
better  mood,  should  I  venture  to  appeal  to  The  Divine 
Legation  itself,  for  the  POSSIBILITY  of  the  thing:  for 
he  lias  been  graciously  pleased  to  allow,  that  "  what  I 
"  have  said  of  converse  being  maintained  by  actions  as 
"  well  as  by  words,  is  very  just;  and  that  the  instances 
"  I  have  produced  from  Scripture,  where  actions  have 
"  been  used  as  foreshowing  the  determinations  of  Provi- 
"  dence,  are  beyond  all  exception."  p.  153.  Now  here, 
J  presume,  his  'modesty  will  confess,  that  I  have  taught 
him  something  new ;  both  in  the  principle,  and  in  the 
following  application  of  it  to  the  primary  and  secondary 
sense  of  prophecies.  But  if  ever  there  was  an  experiment 
made  in  religion,  this  was  one ;  it  being  deduced  from  a 

careful 


Remark  24.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  425 

careful  analysis  of  the  several  various  modes  of  human 
communication.  In  a  word,  had  no  experiments  been 
made  in  nature,  we  had  still  slept  in  the  ignorance  and 
error  of  school-philosophy :  and  had  none  been  made  in 
religion,  we  had  still  been  groping  about,  and  stumbling 
in  the  darkness  and  superstition  of  school- divinity.  For, 
what  were  they,  but  experiments  in  religion,  made  by  a 
JVicklffi  a  Cranmer,  a  Calvin,  an  Erasmus,  a  Hooker, 
that  rescued  us  from  that  darkness  and  superstition? 
Or  is  making  experiments,  like  making  gunpowder,  a 
monopoly?  that  none  are  to  be  intrusted  with  it,  in 
religion,  but  great  names,  and  Fathers  of  the  Church ; 
and  none,  in  nature,  but  Fellows  of  the  Society.  The 
worst  mischief  they  ever  do  is,  now  arid  then,  blowing  up 
an  indiscreet  Divine,  when  he  comes  too  near,  and  tram 
ples  upon  them  with  security  and  contempt.  To  repay 
our  Examiner,  therefore,  one  secret  for  another ;  I  will 
tell  him  what  I  have  of  ten  thought,  and  what  his  own 
words  confirm,  "  That  he  who  can  talk  in  this  manner, 
:f  whatever  face  he  may  put  on,  must  needs  have  his 
"  doubts  and  fears  about  the  truth  of  that  religion  which 

O 

"  he  so  peevishly  defends." — "  Abraham  (says  he)  obeys 
"  God's  call  under  a  FULL  PERSUASION  that  his  Son  was 
"  lost  to  him."  So !  the  doubt  is  now  determined. 
Before,  it  was  only  "  That  Isaac  might,  for  aught 
"  Abraham  knew,  be  for  ever  lost  to  him."  But  this  it 
is  for  a  writer  to  have  a  full  persuasion  both  of  himself 
and  his  reader. 

"  WE  who  SEE  (says  he)  the  RESEMBLANCE  between 
"  this  case  [the  action  commanded]  and  God's  requiring 
"  his  only  Son  to  be  offered  up  as  a  sacrifice,  for  the 
"  sins  of  the  whole  world,  RIGHTLY  say,  that  the  one  was 
"  intended  to  be  the  figure  of  the  other."  These  seers 
by  resemblance  into  facts,  are  like  the  seers  by  second- 
sight  into  futurity:  that  is  to  say,  equally  under  the 
power  of  the  imagination ;  which,  whatever  light  it  may 
afford  to  them,  yet  leaves  their  readers  still  in  the  dark. 
As  to  this  seeing  by  resemblance  in  particular,  the  reader 
may,  if  he  pleases,  consult  the  XVIIIth  Remark  for  all 
that  is  necessary  to  be  said  on  that  subject. 

"  But  whether  Abraham  (says  he)  knew  any  thing  at 
"  all  of  Christ's  sacrifice,  or  whether  he  knew  nothing, 

"the 


426  REMARKS  ON  SEVERAL        [Part  II. 

"  the  Scripture  is  wholly  silent:  AND  YOU  OUGHT  TO 
"  HAVE  BEEN  SILENT  TOO."  To  this  I  reply,  in  the 
first  place,  that  the  reason  why  I  was  not  silent,  was, 
because  Scripture  itself  was  not  silent  \  but,  in  the  words 
of  Jesus,  declared,  that  Abraham  did  know  of  Christ's 
sacrifice.  Secondly,  I  do  not  see  why,  even  though 
Scripture  had  been  silent,  I  ought  to  have  been  silent  too. 
Scripture  is  silent  concerning  the  substance  of  the  Son. 
But  so  are  not  you ;  who,  I  make  no  doubt,  declare  at 
least,  that  he  is  of  one  substance,  with  the  Father.  And 
why  do  you  so?  Because  (you  will  say,  and  you  will 
say  true)  that,  although  this  proposition  be  not  expressed 
in  the  Bible,  in  so  many  words ;  yet  it  is  to  be  deduced 
from  Scripture-doctrine,  by  the  most  known  principles  of 
philosophy  and  logic.  Why  then  will  you  not  allow  me 
the  benefit  of  tli€  same  answer,  in  the  present  case, — But 
in  another  mood  he  can  be  angry  with  me  for  being  silent 
where  Scripture  is  silent.  And  for  not  speaking  out 
when  that  only  gives  a  sign.  "  You  say  nothing  (says  he) 
"  of  Abrahams  virtue,  his  patience  and  self-denial,  yet 
"  Scripture  POINTS  AT  them." 

But  "  It  is  fit  (he  says)  for  us  to  stop  where  the 
Scripture  stops." — With  how  good  a  grace,  and  how 
pertinently  too,  this  maxim  may  be,  sometimes,  applied  ; 
I  shall  beg  leave  to  observe ;  that,  with  regard  to  the 
fundamental  points  of  the  Christian  faith,  it  is,  indeed, 
fit  we  should  stop  where  the  NEW  TESTAMENT  stops; 
because  that  is  able  to  make  us  wise  unto  salvation  ;  and 
because  there  is  now  no  reasonable  expectation  of  any 
further  revelation  of  God's  will  to  us,  that  shall  refer  to 
this,  and  be  explanatory  of  it.  But  with  regard  to  an 
historical  passage,  told  obscurely  (for  the  wise  ends  of 
God's  dispensations,  which  opened  gradually  upon  man 
kind)  in  the  OLD  TESTAMENT,  to  which  the  New  refers 
and  is  explanatory  ;  there,  I  hope,  we  may  go  on,  without 
presumption,  to  shew  how,  from  such  a  passage,  may  be 
demonstrated  the  real  connexion  and  dependency  between 
the  two  covenants.  Yet,  by  the  strangest  perversity, 
there  are  men  who  will  not  stop  in  the  first  case;  and, 
in  the  second,  will  not  go  forward.  But  whatever  our 
Examiner's  notions  be ;  it  is  plain,  he  took  his  expressions^ 
from  somebody  who  applied  the  maxim  to  a  maker  of 

new 


Remark  24.]  OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS.  427 

new  fundamentals.  For  such  a  one,  only,  it  is  seen  to 
fit.  " "  In  conclusion  (says  he)  LET  INFIDELITY  DO 
ITS  WORST."  And  so  it  may,  for  what  our  Examiner 
or  his  fellows  seem  inclined  to  oppose  to  its  progress. 
They  keep  guard,  as  our  Author  says ;  they  perform 
watch  and  ward  as  the  law  requires  :  and  let  such  as 
like  it  go  to  blows  for  them.  One  of  my  most  ahusive 
adversaries,  in  a  book'  he  wrote  against  me,  intitled, 
A  Reply  to  Mr.  fV's  Appendix  in  his  second  Volume  of 
The  Divine  Legation,  has  a  long  digression  (for  it  has 
nothing  to  do  in  the  dispute  between  him  and  me)  of 
seventy  pages,  to  prove  that  the  miracles  and  morality  of 
Paganism  equal  those  of  Judaism  and  Christianity :  in 
which  he  has  made  a  very  elaborate  collection  of  passages 
from  classic  writers,  drawn  up  and  set  in  battle-array 
against  parallel  places  of  Scripture.  Eight  or  ten  clergy 
men  of  the  Church  of  England  have  found  leisure  and 
inclination  to  write  against  The  Divine  Legation,  nobody 
knows  for  what;  and  yet  not  one  of  them  has  taken  the 
least  notice  of  this  open  barefaced  insult  and  defiance  of 
Revelation.  But  what  then  ?  Mr.  Tillard,  no  doubt,  was 
considered  by  them  as  a  fellow-labourer  in  a  good  cause. 
Or  was  it,  for  that  he  is  an  active  member  of  the  Society 
for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts  ? 
of  which,  indeed,  in  these  passages  he  has  given  a  proof. 
For  finding  it  was  for  staying  at  home,  he,  like  a  good 
member  as  he  is,  does  his  best  to  send  it  packing ! — But 
still,  says  our  Examiner,  "  let  infidelity  do  its  worst." 
And  does  he  indeed  think  it  could  do  worse  than  what 
himself  has  here  attempted  ?  I  had  wrote  a  dissertation ; 
which,  if  it  has  any  reality  or  foundation,  in  reason  or 
Scripture,  is  of  the  highest  service  to  religion:  and, 
principally,  on  these  two  accounts,  first,  as  rescuing  a 
passage  out  of  the  hands  of  libertines,  which  was  more 
obnoxious  to  the  objections  of  infidelity  than  any  in  the 
whole  Bible :  and  secondly,  as  discovering  a  real  and  sub 
stantial  circumstance  of  connexion  and.  dependency  between 
the  Old  and  New  Testament ;  not  subject  to  any  of  those 
objections  which  arise  from  typical  or  allegorical  inter 
pretations.  Now,  against  such  a  discourse,  so  directed, 
was  it  natural  to  conceive,  that  a  Divine  of  name  should 
Address  himself)  with  much  haughtiness  and  malice,  to 

write 


4*8  REMARKS,  See.  [Part  tl. 

write  an  elaborate  confutation  ?v  Would  not  a  good  man, 
who  had  a  real  regard  for  the  interests  of  religion,  and 
was  persuaded  of  the  weakness  of  my  discourse,  have  left 
it  to  some  unthinking,  unbelieving  Scribbler,  to  expose  ? 
And  here,  let  me  call,  seriously,  upon  this  learned  man, 
to  lay  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and  to  acquit  himself  of 
his  intentions,  before  the  public  ;  who  finding  nothing  in 
this  dissertation  (how  erroneous  soever  it  may  be  deemed) 
either  of  Heresy  or  Libertinism,  will  needs  be  at  a  loss 
to  discover  any  good  purpose,  in  an  attempt  so  seemingly 
inconsistent  with  his  character  and  profession.  For  the 
public  sees  he  has  taken  the  unbelievers'  task  out  of  their 
hands,  and  executed  it  with  such  a  spirit,  as  cannot  chuse 
'but  give  them  the  highest  satisfaction. 

"  Hoc  Ithacus  velit,  et  magno  mercentur  Atridae." 


END  OF  THE  ELEVENTH  VOLUME-. 


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